Everything Has A Price
by wannabeWriter888
Summary: A rewrite of the first season in Anne Bishop's magical world of the Blood. (Black Jewels AU)
1. The Rose Strand Pt 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Last Ship _or _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy, those belong to TNT and Anne Bishop respectively. I am just playing in their worlds for the time being.

For those unfamiliar with Anne Bishop's world, I've included a general key from her books about the people at the end.

Chapter One

Except for a small flame of witchfire, Rachel's workroom was dark when she stepped away from her work. That was to be expected though as the need to spin the tangled web of visions and dreams had woken her in the twilight hours. The intensity of the need had kept her awake until she'd at last listened and come to weave, to understand why the land whispered danger, danger to her.

Now it was nearly dawn and her web was complete. But Rachel took a moment to step away and steady her mind before she studied the dreams and visions contained within the web. The appearance of a tray of tea and nibbles at her personal table had her smiling; her butler, Markus, was already up and fussing over her in his own way. With a sigh, Rachel breathed in the aroma of the freshly brewed tea and went to pour herself a cup. Her hands trembled slightly with the effort, but she passed it off as tiredness.

Knowing that her males would fuss even more if she didn't look after herself, Rachel ate a little of the toast and fruit Markus had had prepared for her. When her cup of tea was gone, Rachel knew she could no longer put off inspecting the web she'd created. So she placed her cup down and returned to her web, ready to see what the future held. She looked and she saw what all other Black Widows throughout her Territory and the neighboring ones had been seeing the last few weeks.

Rivers of red blood flowing across the land. The bodies of the Blood rotting in fields ready to be harvested. Fear and death. Plague and ruin.

But because Rachel was more than just a Black Widow witch, she saw more as well. She saw a chance for hope.

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In the early morning, Warlord Prince Thomas Chandler stood on the dock watching as his new command, the _Nathan James_, was being stocked.

The presence of an approaching Warlord Prince had him rising to the killing edge until he recognized the psychic scent of his friend and second-in-command, Prince Michael Slattery. Mike kept his distance until Tom turned and smiled at him with a small nod to indicate he'd leashed his temper. They were Warlord Princes, the most violent and aggressive caste among the Blood and also the most protective, they did not apologize for being what they were.

"Looks like everything is coming together well, should be able to ship out this afternoon," Mike commented handing Tom a steaming mug of coffee.

Accepting the cup, Tom turned back to watching the _Nathan James_ as Mike came to stand next to him on the left, a little ways behind. The subordinate position as Protocol dictated, giving respect to the fact Tom wore Sapphire, darker jewels than Mike's Green.

"Yes, the ship is ready and so is the crew," Tom agreed, the words he left unsaid were between them, known but not acknowledged.

Tom and Mike were men of Protocol and followers of the Old Ways. For those were the rules that kept the Blood strong and prosperous, that leashed the tempers and darker natures of Warlord Princes so that they could live in a veneer of civility. As men of honor, who served a good Queen who valued their honor in the same light, Tom and Mike were loyal and obedient to their Queen as Protocol commanded. The time for questioning this plan was over, their Queen had come to a decision and they were bound to their duty.

That did not stop the wrongness of this mission from chafing at them both. For Tom and Mike could sense the change in the land, the inherent sense that great danger was coming that had all the Warlord Princes dancing a heartbeat away from the killing edge. They wanted to stay and fight, to protect their Queen and land as was their right, but the Queen commanded otherwise. Her will was their life and so they put their faith in her as they had before and trusted she had a good reason for this venture, even if she wasn't telling them everything. But this left many unspoken words between them.

"Your wife and children are going to your father's after seeing you off?" Mike asked.

"Yes, it will be good for all of them. Yours?"

"To my brother's. My boy thinks he's old enough to be the protector, doesn't like it, but his mother convinced him," Mike grumbled without any heat.

"Well I wouldn't argue with your wife either, she's a very scary hearth witch when she wants to be," Tom clapped Mike on the shoulder.

"Your boy had his Birthright Ceremony not that long ago right? Came away with a Purple Dusk Jewel didn't he? So just you wait, soon enough the pissing contests are going to reach a whole new level for you and then you're going to see a new side of your wife as well."

"I have no doubt you're right, Mike," Tom said with a laugh; "And when that happens you and I can go out for a glass of ale and commiserate the easier days. Until then I think it's time we went back to our families or else our wives will have our hides for not spending enough time with them before we ship out."

Mike nodded at that and started back down the dock. Tom began to follow, but then stopped to look back at the _Nathan James_ again, the scent of danger flowing strongly in the air. Among the Blood there was a saying: Everything has a price. And Tom wondered what the price of this mission would be.

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"What's that Papa?" Tom's bright-eyed boy, Sam, asked him as they stood on the ship's bridge.

"That's the com stat," Tom replied keeping a close eye on the boy to make sure he didn't touch anything he shouldn't.

"The what?" his daughter, Ashley, asked wrinkling her nose in suspicion, just like her mother did when Sam was causing mischief.

"That's short for communication station, it's how we talk with other ships and with the land stations while out at sea."

"Why don't you just talk on a thread?" Sam asked referring to the psychic threads all Blood learned to communicate on at a young age.

"Normally we do, but sometimes we come across problems, like storms, that require all our Craft to get through and we can't let up our focus for even the few seconds it would take to contact someone on a thread. So we use the com stat instead," Tom explained with a smile.

Other times the problem was the pirates out at sea who tracked communications on threads to find and attack lone ships. The com stat with its spelled airways allowed for communication that couldn't be tracked or listened in on. But that wasn't something his children needed to worry about while their father was at sea, so Tom said nothing about the pirates as he showed his family around the _Nathan James_.

Some of the crew stopped and gave the Chandlers a second look as Tom escorted his family, giving them insight into the day to day workings of the ship. But most of the crew kept about their business having served with Tom before to know this was ritual for the Warlord Prince and his family.

*Human puppies!* a cry went out on a common psychic thread as a brown and black dog came running up to Ashley and Sam.

On his arm Darien laughed at their children's expressions; they were not quite certain how to act with a Purple Dusk Warlord who was also a dog. Tom smiled, recognizing Halsey the Sceltie, who was kindred, one of the Blood who were not human. Following behind the Sceltie was his chosen human, a Green Jeweled Warlord named Daniel Green, who Tom knew only in passing. They all served the same Queen, but operated in different circles, Tom and Darien in the Fourth Circle, Lord Halsey and Lord Danny in the Seventh.

*Pet?* Halsey asked, tail wagging back and forth.

"Not right now Halsey, we have to report to our posts first," Danny reminded his furry companion.

*Then human puppies and I play?*

"If we have time and Prince Chandler does not object," Lord Danny stipulated and Tom nodded his agreement, his grin growing as his children started to catch on.

*Okay. Goodbye human puppies; Prince Chandler and his mate.*

"Prince Chandler," Danny said with a proper bow; "Lady Chandler."

"Lord Green," they replied as the Warlord trotted off after his four-legged friend.

*We are not getting them Sceltie for Winsol,* Darien informed him on a private thread as Ashley and Sam watched the kindred disappear.

Tom would have agreed based on the stories he'd heard about the kindred. But because of the stories he'd heard, he knew in the end the choice wouldn't be up to them, and wisely kept his mouth shut, letting his wife believe what she needed to.

*Tom,* Mike contacted him on a spear thread, *Lady Debra approaches.*

"All right you two, its top side again," Tom called before Ashley and Sam could scurry away.

"But," Ashley tried to wheedle out a few more minutes.

"No more, duty calls," Tom said firmly.

They said their goodbyes at the edge of the dock, as there would be no time after this final meeting with the Queen. He kissed his children and held them tight, promising presents and stories to be told when he returned. Then they ran off, having spotted some friends.

"I have something for you," Darien said with a small smile, holding out a thin package; "Something for you to remember me by while you're away."

"Really, what is it?" Tom brought it up to his ear to shake, but Darien pulled his arm down.

"You'll see, but don't open it here. Wait until later."

"All right. I love you," Tom pulled her in for a kiss after vanishing the gift.

"I love you," Darien replied and kissed him again before letting him go; "May the Darkness protect you."

She did not ask him to return to her, to them. Because she understood that as a Warlord Prince, he would die to defend his Queen and land and family. Life was not a promise he could guarantee and neither of them were foolish enough to believe otherwise. Another kiss, a promise of love, and then she was gone, after their children, while Tom headed for the Queen.

Mike joined Tom on the way to Queen Debra, so that they could intercept her before she reached the docks. Because of their connection to the land as its caretakers, many of the Blood were not comfortable with sea travel for long periods of time. As the most connected to the land, Queens felt the worst of all when they attempted to travel over water for any time period. For the most part, sea voyages were unnecessary thanks to the Webs, the psychic paths through the Darkness that covered the land and allowed for quick travel for anyone with a Jewel or the money to pay for passage.

However there were some islands, like the Antar Isles, where the Webs did not reach and could only be reached by ship. And it was to the Antar Isles the _Nathan James_ would soon be heading with its crew and two unknown passengers.

They caught Queen Debra and her escorts in the courtyard that sat just beyond the docks. Queen Debra took one look behind them and smiled indulgently at their protectiveness of her. Her escorts, her Master of the Guard, Warlord Prince Graeton, and First Circle Warlord Briar, gave nods of approval behind her back.

"Prince Chandler, Prince Slattery," Queen Debra greeted them and they bowed; "I hear everything is going as it should, that you will be ready to set out within the hour."

"Yes Lady Debra, we are," Tom answered.

"Very good. I'd like to introduce you to your guests on this voyage," Queen Debra held out a hand and the woman and man at the back of her party stepped forward; "This is Lady Rachel Scott and her escort Lord Quincy Tophet."

Tom and Mike had of course noticed the unfamiliar witch and male the moment they joined the group. But because the two were with the Queen and her escorts, neither Warlord Prince had challenged the presence of the man or paid too close of attention to the obvious guests of the Court. Now though they conducted quick but thorough assessments of the would-be passengers on the _Nathan James_.

Lord Tophet was a sandy-haired with a bookish look about him. He was a Purple Dusk Warlord and that meant he'd be more mild-mannered and less temperamental than a Warlord Prince, but there would still be some interesting pissing contests in the future. He didn't have the build of a warrior, which probably meant he had no more fighting skills than the basics taught in court training. However the look in his eyes said he'd defend and protect with everything in him when the time came. As such Tom figured they'd get along fine.

The dark-haired Lady Scott, on the other hand, had Tom's nerves tingling. She wasn't a danger or a threat, of that he was certain, but there was something off about her, as if he was missing something very important. But then Lady Scott was a Black Widow, one of the Hourglass Craft, who walked the Twisted Kingdom of madness, wove tangled webs of dreams and visions, and was well-practiced in the art of poisons. Her caste was always a bit unsettling and as the hourglass pendent with the gold dust in the bottom indicated, she had completed her training which made her a very dangerous witch to cross. The fact that she wore Sapphire Jewels meant they were equals in both caste and jewels, so dealing with her could be a hassle if she proved to be prickly and stubborn.

"Lady Scott, Lord Tophet this is Prince Chandler, the captain of the _Nathan James_, and Prince Slattery, his second-in-command. They will take care of you on your journey to the Antar Isles and do their best to help you retrieve the Primora, if any can be found," Lady Debra finished the introduction, sounding a bit strained.

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Lady Rachel said with a bow respectful of her rank, then turned to Debra; "Have faith Sister, we will find the Primora."

Amerik Territory was known for its many accents in the Common Tongue, but the lilt to Lady Rachel's voice did not belong to an Amerikan. Having served on ships for most of his adult life, Tom had encountered many accents from Amerik and several other territories that lived on the west side of the Milky Way Mountains. As such he recognized Rachel and Quincy as Brytol Territory Blood, having fought alongside the Bryts before while at sea.

It didn't sit right with him that this was the first time he was learning about the identities of the _Nathan James'_ passengers. When Lady Debra's Master of the Guard and Steward had picked him for this assignment, they'd said it was a straightforward mission. The Antar Isles contained a plant long died out on the main land, several Healers needed the Primora for more complicated brews, and so the _Nathan James_ was to take a witch and her escort to the Isles to find this plant and bring it home for the Healers to use. The fact the witch was a Black Widow and she and her escort were from the neighboring territory was not straightforward. But Tom would not challenge his Queen, he would serve.

"May the Darkness embrace you on your journey," Lady Debra indicated an end to her part in the conversation.

Then Debra and Warlord Briar left the group. Prince Graeton stayed, giving Tom a tap on a spear thread signaling him to step aside for a private conversation. Tom sent Mike a message, telling him to take their guests to the _Nathan James_.

"Do the two of you have everything you need?" Mike asked as Graeton led Tom a little ways away.

"We've been picking up chatter that the Ruskan pirates have developed a way to track com stat signals," Graeton went straight for the point in his usual gruff manner; "As the currents to the Isles are dangerous enough, you're to stay off com stat until you reach them, understood?"

"Of course Prince Graeton," Tom replied, bristling internally while Graeton gave him a knowing look.

"This mission is important Tom. The Lady wouldn't be sending her best if it wasn't. Come back as quick as you can and may the Darkness watch over you."

Tom could only nod, too busy leashing his temper which had risen at the undercurrents of Graeton's words. There was immense danger lurking behind the secrets Lady Debra and her First Circle seemed determined to keep and Tom had a sinking feeling he was not going to like the answers when the truth came out.

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Copyright belongs to Anne Bishop:

Jewels: (The darker the Jewel, the more power one has.)

White, Yellow, Tiger Eye, Rose, Summer-sky, Purple Dusk, Opal*, Green, Sapphire, Red, Gray, Ebon-gray, Black

*Opal is the dividing line between lighter and darker Jewels because it can be either.

When making the Offering to the Darkness, a person can descend a maximum of three ranks from his/her Birthright Jewel.

Example: Birthright White can descend to Rose.

Blood Hierarchy/ Castes:

Males: landen - non-Blood of any race; Blood male - a general term for all males of the Blood, also refers to any Blood male who doesn't wear Jewels; Warlord - a Jeweled male equal in status to a witch; Prince - a Jeweled male equal in status to a Priestess or a Healer; Warlord Prince - a dangerous, extremely aggressive Jeweled male, in status, slightly lower than a Queen.

Females: landen - non-Blood of any race; Blood female - a general term for all females of the Blood, mostly refers to any Blood female who doesn't wear Jewels; witch - a Blood female who wears Jewels but isn't one of the other hierarchical levels, also refers to any Jeweled female; Healer - a witch who heals physical wounds and illnesses; Priestess - a witch who cares for alters, witnesses handfasts and marriages, and preforms offerings; Black Widow - a witch who heals the mind, weaves the tangled webs of dreams and visions, and is trained in illusions and poisons; Queen - a witch who rules the Blood, is considered to be the land's heart and the Blood's moral center, as such, she is the focal point of their society.


	2. The Rose Strand Pt 2

Disclaimer: Sigh, I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight. . . Dang, I still don't own TNT's _The Last Ship_ or Anne Bishop's _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy.

**A/N: **As this is AU, some of the characters might be a little OC to fit in better with the new universe. Also I only plan to update once a week, on Thursdays preferably.

Chapter Two

In the shelter of the night, in the darkness of her room on board the _Nathan James_, Rachel rose in secret. The ship churned through the waves as the engines hummed and not even the most powerful of shields could stop one from feeling the constant motions. The sea travel upset her stomach more than she'd anticipated as such she was drinking soothing potions at least twice a day in order just to eat.

But that wasn't why she was up so late at night.

With most of the crew asleep, that left only the men and women on duty who were up and about, and as they were too busy doing their jobs, Rachel had little fear that anyone would look in on her while she worked. Slipping out her room, she quickly made her way to her workroom on the _Nathan James_, sight shielded just in case anyone crossed paths with her.

Once she'd reached the room, she dropped the sight shield and Sapphire locked the door to ensure there would be no interruptions. Then she called into the room the chest that she carried on her always, the one that contained her supplies for the Hourglass Craft. She set up her supplies around her in positions that would be the easiest to reach without stopping her momentum and then she began to weave.

A few hours later, the tangled web was done. Unlike most tangled webs, this one was not crafted to hold visions or dreams for interpretation. It was a new design, of Rachel's own creation, meant to connect with the land and the Blood and reveal their state of health. A web she'd been designing and perfecting in secret for the past few weeks.

Thirteen main strands connected to Jewels chips, one for each rank of power, given to Rachel by trusted friends before she'd come on this mission. Each chip and the connecting strand represented the Blood of that rank. As Rachel watched, the strands representing the White and Yellow Jeweled Blood darkened from silvery white to a rotting black. Then the Tiger Eye strand began to turn as well becoming as dark as drying blood and Rachel knew it would not be long until the Tiger Eye darkened further and joined the other light Jewels.

The plague was moving far faster than Rachel thought it would, faster than any Black Widow had believed it could. They did not have as much time as she'd hoped and the _Nathan James_ was moving much too slowly towards the Isles. If they did not get to the Isles soon and find the Primora, then the Blood would lose their only hope. And every Territory west of the Milky Ways would be dead before winter.

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Three months and a half after setting out from port and they had finally reached the first of the Antar Isles, a month behind schedule. It couldn't be helped. They'd encountered two storms ripping across waters that they had to go around, otherwise they would have risked damaging the engines beyond what Craft could repair while out at sea. Though Rachel had certainly seemed ready to challenge Tom's decision each time, she never had, yielding to his experience before speaking, for which he was grateful.

Still he could sense the growing anxiety in her and her escort that had him teetering near the killing edge. It didn't help that even this far out at sea he could still sense the mounting danger back on land that had him clenching his teeth. Things had been close to coming to a head with Tom demanding answers out of one of them, sooner rather than later. But now that they'd reached the first isle the situation had changed and his need could wait, though his temper remained honed.

"So that is Anu Isle, it's even more beautiful than I thought it would be," Alisha commented from her station at the wheel.

"I thought you'd been to the Antar Isles before Lady Granderson," Tom replied looking at the Yellow Jeweled witch as he stepped onto the bridge.

"Only to Arru Isle on my first voyage, always wanted to see the rest, but didn't get the chance until now, Prince."

"Well then perhaps you'd like to join me in searching for the Primora, Sister," Rachel said walking onto the bridge.

"No you will not," Tom and Mike snapped at the same time.

Rachel recoiled for a moment; then the shock on her face disappeared as she squared off to argue with a determined glint in her eyes. Quincy, who followed her in just a step behind, had a pained expression on his face telling Tom all he needed to know about arguing with this particular witch.

"And why can't Lady Alisha join me?"

"Because neither of you are getting off this ship," Tom took lead for which the other males seemed too relieved.

"Why ever not?"

"There is no way of telling what kind of dangers are on that island."

"The isle is uninhabited," Rachel countered; "We've seen no other ship in weeks, not since that freighter, and no one comes to the Antar Isles except to restock and reconnect with the land for a few days. Besides, who among you men knows anything about gardening, much less the Primora, a flower that hasn't been seen in centuries? There is a reason I was sent on the this mission Prince, I wove the tangled web that showed me what we are looking for, as such I am the only one who can tell you if we've found our goal."

There wasn't much Tom could say to argue with that. Having this argument in front of his crew, especially since he'd just lost a lot of ground, was not what Tom wanted. However, Lady Rachel didn't seem like she was in the mood to relocate for a more private conversation – probably afraid of the males working together to talk her out of her plan.

"How would the Lady like to go about this part of the mission then?" Mike asked, giving Tom time to regroup.

"Well, at the least, the group should consist of Lord Tophet and myself, along with a couple escorts from the ship of course. Any nonessential crew members who would like to spend a little time on land would also be welcome in searching the isle as we can cover the ground faster that way."

"Absolutely not," Tom barked; "How about you stay on the ship and tell my men what they need to look for and I send a detachment of seven or eight fighters to search the isle for you."

"That is completely unreasonable Prince Chandler," Rachel snapped back, challenging Tom.

At equal rank and caste, they stood on the same ground with neither one in the dominate position to make the other yield. If Rachel had been male, they could've, would've settled their differences in bloodshed. As it was they were at a draw and neither one of them was going to back down.

"If I might make a suggestion," Quincy spoke up; looking as if he'd swallowed something extremely unpleasant; "I shall escort Lady Scott to the isle that she might search for the Primora, along with four of your strongest fighters as additional escorts and no one else. Then Lady Scott will stay with two escorts at all times while the others search the isle in sections."

"That isn't necessary," Rachel railed, while Tom held himself back to consider the proposal.

"Actually Lady, it is," Quincy replied with rigid Protocol; "Prince Chandler is right, we cannot be taking chances. This is the best option you will get."

Tom and Mike and pretty much everyone on the bridge looked sharply at Quincy. For with that final statement he'd made it clear that should Rachel suggest anything less secure, Quincy would side with Tom and the other males. Well the man certainly had backbone to draw a line like that with a Black Widow of Rachel's caliber. However Rachel regarded Quincy with an expression of amused irritation rather than the anger Tom expected.

"Very well, I will accept these terms. What about you Prince Chandler?"

"The terms are agreeable, but as the ship's captain I will be making one change, Lady" Tom took a page out of Quincy's book and relied heavily on Protocol; "You will be accompanied by Lord Tophet, four escorts, and me."

"Fine," Rachel relented, only considering arguing for a second; "When will we be leaving?"

"We'll meet at the starboard skiff in an hour," Tom answered after a quick psychic check with Mike.

"Then I will see you in an hour, gentlemen, ladies," Rachel bowed and then left the room.

Quincy gave his own bow and an apologetic smile; then followed after the witch in his care. Tom did not envy the man, his initial assessment had been right; Rachel was not easy to deal with when she got her head set on something. But at least Quincy had experience when it came to dealing with her; otherwise that argument could've lasted hours.

"Now that we're here, Prince Slattery, I will leave the bridge in your capable hands while I go to prepare for landing," Tom said with a smile of pride for his crew; "Why don't you call home and tell them the good news."

"Aye, Captain," Mike replied as Tom headed off the bridge.

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The isle was beautiful. Several miles long, but no more than two wide, it was ringed in by white, sandy beaches except for at one section where the island rose above sea level with a jutting cliff. The entire isle was covered with large palm trees and a plethora of vegetation, not much natural animal life, but a few species of brightly colored birds none the less. And many, many species of flora, ranging from bright blues and pinks to subtle yellows and reds.

But nowhere in the sectors searched so far had they found the white petals of the Primora. There had been a few close calls, and Rachel had begrudgingly let herself be escorted to the sites. Only to determine this flower in question didn't have the right type of leaf or that flower was cream white rather than pure white and that other flower, the one all the males were so sure of, was only a daisy.

Still it felt good to be back on land, to feel that connection with the earth that she'd missed so dearly. Her stomach settled and the dull headache she'd had since she set foot on the _Nathan James_ was gone. But it was more than just that, this isle was pure, not yet touched by the plague, and she could feel that health and vibrancy sinking into her very bones. It felt, invigorating.

It almost made up for Quincy siding with the other males. Oh, she wasn't surprised that he'd sided with the men, he hadn't like her plan from the start and the longer they were at sea, the more against it he became. But he knew the cost, knew what they were fighting against, so for the most part he'd been reasonable. Up until she'd suggest her plan.

It was a perfectly logical and sound plan. By having as many people as they could out on the isle, searching for the Primora, they could've finished the search in only a few hours and then been on their way. But the moment she'd suggested it the males had gotten all prickly, she could see their defensive natures slamming down. Then they'd teamed up against her as their gender was prone to do, becoming a stubborn, impenetrable wall, and Quincy had joined them. She'd known after Quincy planted his feet that there was no point in arguing, that she'd have to agree to whatever plan was suggested just so long as she got off the bloody ship. They didn't have the time to squabble, so she'd let them win and would plan the next battle accordingly.

Men, but especially Warlord Princes with barely leashed tempers, could be such a hassle when they didn't try to see things outside of male logic. And Quincy's plan was entirely based in male logic, Rachel could tell. She'd have to find a way to calm down the Warlord Princes before they reached the next isle or finding the Primora would take too long. As it was, though Quincy's plan cut into the speed of finding the flower they sought, Prince Tom and his men were very efficient in their searches, so they didn't have to worry about that at least.

*Rachel, are you supposed to be doing that?* and then the dog piped up and Rachel remember what she was not going be forgiving any of the males for; *Frank, is Rachel allowed to do that?*

"I'm only looking at the plant Lord Halsey, to see if it has any medicinal purposes," Rachel grumbled while Prince Francis Benz laughed behind his hand; "I am allowed to do that."

*Frank?* the kindred had the nerve to ask the Summer-sky Prince on a common thread.

"She's fine Halsey," Frank stopped laugh long enough to reply; "Why don't you go scout ahead for a bit?"

*I will scout and smell the good smells. Then we will continue on Rachel's walkie,* Halsey declared before trotting off.

Rachel glared at the disappearing Warlord; then gave the Prince a grateful smile. It had been with luck and no small amount of deliberate care that Rachel had managed to keep away from the kindred dog while the ship had been at sea. Then Tom had had to go and pick Warlord Danny to be one of the escorts on land and of course the dog had come along, bringing their party up to a total of eight. Now the Sceltie had her scent and recognized her as a special human of his, not in the same way Danny was, but special all the same, and she knew there would be no getting rid of him.

*Rachel, Quincy says you should rest now and have something to eat, Prince Tom agrees,* Halsey came bounding back all too soon.

*Using the dog to do your dirty work, are we now?* Rachel asked Quincy on a private thread.

Her oldest friend wisely chose not to respond as Rachel was badgered into sitting down and taking a break. When Halsey called in a blanket for her to sit on and Frank brought out a chilled container with enough food to make a dinner, not a snack, Rachel had to school her expression to not give away her amusement. Blood males were a strange species, sometimes sweet and other times nothing but a headache.

A little while later, after another false start, Rachel, Frank, and Halsey were following an almost invisible path towards the heart of the island. As they circumvented a felled tree, Rachel stopped, sensing something off. Attuned to her, Frank and Halsey stopped as well, both shifting into protective stances. They were not Warlord Princes, so their first instincts were not to rise to the killing edge, but they did feel the call to protect.

"Lady?" Frank questioned when Rachel started towards the source of what felt wrong.

"There's something here Prince," Rachel tried to explain, sinking to the depth of Sapphire and probing outward.

Halsey flanked her on the right as she continued forward; Frank took lead on her left. As they neared the crest of a small hill, Rachel was able to hone in on what she was sensing, Hourglass Craft. A second later, Halsey growled:

*There are hiding humans, bad smells.*

Danger.

Rachel had only a seconds warning to throw up Sapphire shields around herself and her escorts while Halsey sounded the alarms. Then they were under attack.

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Trampling through the undergrowth, searching for a white flower among a bunch of other white flowers was not how Tom had wanted the day to go. The Blood may have been chosen as the caretakers of the land, but that didn't mean he wanted to be grubbing around in the dirt every day, or any day really. Darien enjoyed her garden, weedy it and tending it and doing whatever it was she needed to do for the garden; Tom enjoyed the sea.

But the Healers back in Amerik needed this Primora, so he was out searching for it with Quincy and Danny. One of his more senior crewmen, a Summer-sky Prince named Hugh Jeter, was leading the second group of searchers, Warlord Miller and Prince Burk following his commands. They'd already covered over three-fourths of the isle and had nothing to show for it, except setting Tom's nerves more and more on edge. There was trouble brewing in the air and it was drawing Tom ever closer to dancing on the knife's blade of the killing edge. It didn't help that when they'd tried to contact home earlier, no one had answered them on the com stat.

*Rachel is under attack!* came Halsey's battle cry and Tom's temper slipped its leash.

He rose to the killing edge in a heartbeat, turning in the direction where he knew the Lady and her escorts were. Quincy and Danny followed his lead, riding on the killing edge they charged to defend. Only to be cut off as five, no, a dozen men dropped their sight shields and attacked. They were Ruskan males, easily identified by their red jackets and matching trousers. They didn't belong to any caste and the darkest Jewel among them that he sensed was an Opal; they were organized and had the advantage of numbers, but not for long.

He was a Sapphire Jeweled Warlord Prince, stepping onto the killing field with him was suicide, a fact these Ruskans would soon learn. But first, his duty was to make sure the stubborn Black Widow made it safely back to the _Nathan James_. Then he'd splatter through the fools.

*Quincy,* Tom reached out on a Purple Dusk thread; *Pull back and run around. Get to Rachel and get her to the skiff.*

For a moment, it looked like the Warlord was going to argue with him. Then he nodded and started a well-executed retreat, pulling up a sight shield to confuse the enemy about his intentions. Tom sent out a burst of power on the Sapphire to distract the Ruskans and force them to pull up shields that quickly drained deflecting the power. A good tactic, but it wouldn't do them any good in the long run.

Without any more words or any kind of communication, Tom and Danny engaged the Ruskans nearest them. They worked together, shielding each other's' weak spots and sending bursts of power at the others' opponent when the enemy least expected it. One Ruskan fell to Tom's blade as he broke through the man's White shield and burned out his Jewels. Another went down when the man's shield dropped for a moment and Tom used Craft to blow him up. Three, four, six, and then seven Ruskans killed one way or another by his hand. Another four downed by Danny and still more came.

Tom counted another nine in sight, plotting attacks in teams of two and three now, layering their shields. Another three or four lay in wait, just out of sight. In the brutal clarity that was the killing edge, Tom analyzed the Ruskans' attacks and deployments, trying to figure out their plans. And he didn't like was he was seeing, a distraction.

It was too dangerous to call out on a thread, to see if Rachel was safe. He had to make sure that she was, had to get to her himself. That meant it was time to end this scattered fighting and take most of them out in one blow and Tom knew just how he wanted to do that. He signaled Danny to come to him, drawing the teams of Ruskans attacking them individually together. Then he descended down to the depths of the Sapphire and prepared a spell net taught to him by a Brytol sea captain years ago that he'd perfected over the years.

Danny was behind him, shielded and striking out, forcing the Ruskans to come to them to deal with the threat. Eleven of them stalked towards them, in three groups, a little closer and Tom would release his spell on all of them, ending the fight. Cold, feminine rage flowed over them, over the entire isle. But Tom didn't pay it any attention, his focus on the Ruskans, two of whom were drawing near a little too fast. He shifted to engage them physically, Danny guarding his back.

Then there was a punch of Gray that Tom felt hurtling up as he rested on the Sapphire. He released his spell and rode it out, knowing better than to fight against that much power being fueled by rage; Danny would know to do the same. Whether or not the Ruskans knew what to do, or even sensed the coming burst, he never knew. But two of the Ruskans were close enough for him to see their faces when the Gray reached them, extreme pain. Then the Ruskans puffed and fell, and not just the two nearest Tom, but all of them that he could sense in the area close to him.

Cautiously, Tom and Danny approached the nearest Ruskans, to finish the kill. However the sight that greeted them plucked even Tom off of the killing edge.

"Mother Night, what happened to them?" Danny asked, gagging.

Though he didn't want to, Tom knelt beside what had once been an arm, and pressed his fingers into the flesh. The flesh stayed together as what was beneath shifted like pudding beneath his touch.

"Everything's been pulverized," Tom got out after a moment; "Bone, muscle, veins, all mush."

The skill of Craft it took, to do that kind of damage and still leave the skin intact, on one person alone was difficult. To do that to every Ruskan on the killing field, even at the Gray, pointed to an astounding proficiency Tom had encountered only a few times. The ruthlessness of the kills spoke of a woman on the killing edge and that frightened Tom more than anything. Men were lethal and brutal on the killing edge, women were merciless and obliterating.

"Don't we need to finish the kill?" Danny asked as Tom started in the direction of the bitter, feminine rage.

"There's nothing left to make the transition to demon-dead."

But even if one of the Ruskans did manage to become one of the demon-dead, Tom had a feeling Rachel would know how to finish the kill even then, after she extracted whatever payment she felt was necessary.


	3. The Rose Strand Pt 3

Disclaimer: Don't own the rights to TNT's _The Last Ship_, but will own the DVDs when they come out. Don't own the rights to Anne Bishop's _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy, but do own the books, great reads obviously. I do own the strange mesh of the two worlds I've created and do so enjoy writing it.

**A/N:** Reviews make me so very happy, thank for all of them. Constructive critic is great appreciated and helps me develop my writing better.

StarTraveler: Thanks for reading, hope you continue to enjoy the story.

darkjewelledassassin: Hope I do Anne's world justice, let me know if there's anything I could write better. : )

shepweir always: Sorry, Rachel did it, but she isn't an evil killer. The Blood are a violent, passionate people and they do kill when the situation requires it, but it doesn't make them evil and I hope I capture that in the next couple of chapters.

Chapter Three

They found Rachel on the beach, not five paces away from the skiff. The bloated and unnatural bodies of eight Ruskans lay in close proximity to her. Quincy lay near her, a large gash across his stomach that he appeared to be treating with limited healing Craft. Halsey stood guard, though he projected great relief across a common thread at the sight of Tom and Danny.

At first, Tom thought something had happened to Rachel, that she was gravely injured. Then they drew closer and Tom realized the body Rachel was crouched over wasn't that of a Ruskan, but Prince Benz.

"Frank," Danny cried out and rushed forward, worried about his friend.

Rachel's head snapped up at that and the glazed look in her eyes said she was still riding the killing edge. Tom managed to pull Danny back before he got to close and felt her wrath.

"Tom, what's happened?" Hugh called out as he and Miller and Burk approached; "We were fighting against the Ruskans and then, Mother Night."

Hugh held back the younger men and looked to Tom for direction. The problem was Tom had never tried to talk down a woman on the killing edge, having only heard about the situation. He looked towards Quincy to see if the only male who really knew Rachel was in any shape to help him. But Rachel took the look as a sign of aggression and Tom could feel it as she started to weave a spell around him.

"Lady, don't," Quincy gasped; "They're here to help. Let them help me."

*Prince Chandler will help, he is a good human, his humans are good as well,* Halsey agreed softly.

Rachel paused, weighing the words and the Protocol. Then with a small twitch of her head, she gave her consent, but didn't step back from the killing edge. With a signal to the others to stay still, Tom cautiously approached Quincy, reaching out on a spear thread.

*What can I do?*

*I've stopped the bleeding. Help me up; she needs to see I'm all right. Rely on Protocol and don't challenge her.*

Tom had already figured out the last part, but respected the reminder. As he helped Quincy sit up, though the Warlord didn't need it, he appreciated the subtle message that he was a friend which the other man was trying to send. Once Quincy was upright, under Rachel's watchful gaze, the two Bryts engaged in a conversation on a private thread.

Whatever was said satisfied the Black Widow enough to start her on a slide back from the killing edge. Then Danny took a few steps forward, to see his friend, to confirm Frank was really dead. Rachel then turned her sights on him, seeing an enemy.

"Lady Scott," Tom interceded; "Prince Benz is gone, there is nothing more you can do for him. Please, let us take our brother home."

"He stepped outside my shields," she whispered, a hand coming up to touch the Gray Jewel that now sat around her neck; "He would've been fine if he'd stayed inside my shields and gotten on the boat with me."

"It was his right to defend Lady," Hugh replied.

"I know it was," Rachel sighed, a tear streaking down her cheek as the coldness of the killing edge faded from her eyes.

She let go of Frank's arm, using her left arm to close the dead man's eyes. Then she stood up and stepped back. Tom vanished Frank's body and nodded at the other men to get into the skiff. When Rachel took a step towards Quincy, all the men caught the scent of female blood, and all of them, but the dog, uttered low growls.

"You've been injured, get in the skiff now," he ordered.

"I," she went to argue, but Tom snarled sufficiently that she did as she was told.

She was smart enough to accept Hugh's help onto the skiff, even if she was perfectly capable of doing so herself, while Miller and Burk helped Quincy. The ride back to the _Nathan James_ was tense and silent. They were all coming down from the violence of the killing field, putting off the sorrow of Frank's loss, and in the case of the males, trying not to snarl about Rachel's injury. As they neared the _Nathan James_, Tom sent out a psychic tap that signaled the Healer on duty to meet them top side.

*Tom?* Mike asked warily as Tom stepped onto the _Nathan James_ deck, sensing the dominate Warlord Prince's strained emotions.

*Remain at your station, I'm on my way up,* Tom replied.

"Look at Lady Scott first," Quincy said when Healer Kara Foster tried to help him.

"Don't be daft Quincy, my arm won't get any worse if I wait a few minutes," Rachel snapped at her friend.

*Lord Tophet is your escort, your life comes first. Do not argue with him on this,* Halsey was the first to speak; *He is well enough to stand here until the Healer tends to you. Then she can see to him before we go to the sick room.*

Tom had to fight back a chuckle at Rachel's gob smacked look, as if she hadn't expected the Warlord Sceltie to side against her. The humor took enough off the edge of his emotions that he didn't quite feel the need to voice his opinion in this particular battle of wills. The Green Jeweled Kara took advantage of Rachel's shock to begin looking at the other witch's injury. Satisfied that the most recent feminine sensibilities problem had been dealt with, Tom turned to head for the bridge.

"Prince Chandler," Rachel called, waiting until he turned to look her in the eye; "The ones who attacked were not alone. The rest of their crew is on a ship anchored just beyond the north end of the isle."

Tom nodded; hearing the command to finish what was started, and turned again, only to come face to face with Warlord Danny.

"Prince, may I stand watch over my brother?" Danny asked politely though the look in his eyes said only one answer was the right one.

Tom's answer was to call Frank's body back in, laying the fallen man gently on the deck with a shroud over him. Then Tom walked on, those of the crew on deck quickly spreading word of what was seen and heard all overboard and everyone prepared for the inevitable.

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"Lady Granderson, raise anchor and bring the ship about. Take us to the north end of the isle," Tom commanded before his foot even crossed the threshold onto the bridge.

"Very Well, Prince," Alisha replied, sending out the necessary messages before taking the wheel.

"Prince Slattery, sound the call, all hands to general quarters."

"Aye," Mike said without question.

The tense energy of the room evaporated as his crew got underway, the action telling them all they needed to know about what had happened on shore. All around the ship, Tom sensed the mood shifting as his people prepared for battle, trusting his judgment and his honor. When he sensed everyone was ready, he sent out a message on a common thread that all his crew could hear:

*A Ruskan ship has come to Anu. They attacked us and killed our brother, Prince Frank Benz. They have called us to the killing field, so we shall meet them there an end this. Ready the cannons and star nets.*

Among the Blood there was no law against murder. However when one of the Blood killed another, a debt was owed that could be collected upon. Rachel had set the price for Frank's death, she'd begun to call it in, and now the crew of the _Nathan James_ would finish collecting that debt. Tom would've done the same if he'd been the first to see Frank fall, though his methods would've been a lot bloodier.

When the Ruskan ship came into view, the enemy tried to raise anchor and flee like the honorless cowards they were. The Ruskan ship was a small schooner, easily capable of out running the _Nathan James_ in the proper conditions. But sheltered behind the cliff on the northern end of Anu Isle, the schooner was blocked from the winds that would have helped it to escape. The fact the _Nathan James_ was inbound along the path of what winds were there did not help the Ruskans' survival chance either.

The moment they were in range, Tom ordered the star nets released. Eight shells burst from the _Nathan James_, shrouded in witchfire as they streaked towards their targets. Three of the shells exploded near the water just outside the shields surrounding the Ruskan ship. The three nets littered the water with Craft-enhanced mines; they would burn out in a few days, but trapped the Ruskans until then. The other five shells burst at various points on the shields of the schooner, their shrapnel attacking and weakening the shields.

The _Nathan James_ tracked in closer and aimed its cannons. In rapid fire, one after another Craft-altered artillery slammed into the weakening Ruskan shields. The first few cannons were spelled specifically to punch through shields as dark as Sapphire and left openings for the next wave to follow through. The second wave hit the schooner and divided, letting momentum carrying them farther apart before they exploded. After the fourth wave, Tom order a cease fire as the schooner caught flame, its masts collapsing, and giant holes filling swiftly with water.

In a last ditch attempt to survive, many of the men onboard the ship jumped overboard from the doomed schooner. Those that weren't caught in the falling wreckage and continuing explosions met their ends under the combined power attacks from groups on board the _Nathan James,_ their minds burned out and Jewels drained.

The Ruskan schooner was built to raid and plunder, to run away; it was not made to fight a battleship like the _Nathan James_. It never stood a chance. As the Ruskan ship burned, Tom felt only grim satisfaction. This was the price of tangling with a ship under a Queen's command, of attacking without honor, and of killing a good Prince. This was Blood justice.

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After a final probe that determined not an enemy soul survived, the _Nathan James_ sailed away. When they had enough distance from the isle, Tom left Alisha in charge of the bridge and stepped away, Mike following. Hugh met them in the room reserved for formal court meetings, his expression as grim as theirs. For a while all Tom did was stare out the portside window, considering the situation at hand and the best way to deal with it. Behind him Mike and Hugh didn't shift, waiting for him to set the mood and start the discussion.

"Were you able to make contact with home?" he finally asked.

"No," Mike answered and then didn't bother to hold himself back any longer; "Tom, what happened out there?"

"The Ruskans attacked while we were near the end of the search. We were divided: Green, Tophet, and I; Hugh, Miller, and Burk. Benz and Halsey were acting as Rachel's escorts. Halsey gave the warning; then they were on us. I sent Tophet help get Rachel out of danger while Green and I dealt with the Ruskans. It seemed after a time that their goal was to keep us distracted, to keep us from defending Rachel."

"You didn't confirm?" Mike asked referring to the tradition of ripping through an enemy's mental inner barriers and discovering all the secrets the man had to offer before killing him.

"Didn't get the chance to," Hugh answered for Tom; "She killed them all in one punch after Benz went down, Mother Night, how she took them down."

Hugh's explanation would do for now, but as one Warlord Prince to another; Tom would be informing Mike of exactly how Rachel dealt with the Ruskans later. For if she ever rose to the killing edge again, as the strongest males on board, they would be the ones to dance on the knife's edge, standing between her and the crew until she calmed.

"Since it appears the witchling has been keeping secrets, ones that endanger this crew, why aren't we down in the infirmary getting answers out of her?"

"Because she wears the Gray," Tom answered.

"Mother Night, you mean Sapphire is her Birthright Jewel," Mike muttered mostly to himself as no one needed to voice the confirmation out loud.

Now Mike understood Tom's dilemma. Since Rachel wore the Gray, that made her dominate in rank over all the crew. In the situation that was to come, that made getting answers from her all the harder as Tom could no longer demand answers from her on an equal footing. Add to the fact she was still reeling from riding the killing edge and he had to tread carefully as to not set her off again.

But his ship and his crew had been put in danger. There was something malevolent in the air and the land that haunted him even out at sea. And that Black Widow, Gray or not, had the answers. So Tom was going to find out the truth, even if it killed him. First though, he'd try the indirect approach.

A plan of attack in mind, Tom loped out of the court room, Hugh and Mike on his heels, ready to have his back. The crew they passed on the way got out of sight as soon as they saw the approaching men, no one wanted to be in the way of two Warlord Princes and a Prince on the warpath, even if they weren't riding the killing edge, yet. Soon enough they reached the workroom Rachel had been assigned for her stay on the _Nathan James_.

At the door, Tom paused and considered the dangers of forcing his way into the workroom of a Black Widow. Having had a little training in identifying some Hourglass Craft, he probed for spells that would rip a mind apart or worse. Finding none, he tested also for locks on the Sapphire or below. Still sensing nothing, he tried the knob and was mildly surprised when it opened for him, unlatched.

Then he pushed into the room and started to search. Rachel had one work table and several trunks and chests. Her work space was organized and clean, deceptively benign in appearance, much like the woman. Respectful of the neatness, because he was aware he'd likely get a tongue lashing later if he didn't, Tom searched the room. Most of the trunks and chests held nothing but average craft supplies and some Healer's supplies as well which Tom didn't expect since Rachel wasn't a natural healer. Then he found one trunk that refused to open and was shielded and imbued with Gray power.

"Got you," he picked it up and headed the infirmary, Mike and Hugh leading the way.


	4. The Rose Strand Pt 4

Disclaimer: Wish I did own TNT's _The Last Ship_ and Anne Bishop's _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy, sadly I don't, but maybe one day, eh who am I kidding.

Chapter Four

Rachel was drinking the healing brew Kara had prepared for her under the watchful eyes of every male in the room, Halsey going so far as to sit next to her to make sure she drank it all. Normally she would've had something to say about all this fussing, but at the moment she was still reeling from her return from the killing edge.

She'd only risen to that cold clarity a few times in her life and never to exact the justice she'd just done on the isle. It unnerved her to know what she was capable of when pushed into the Twisted Kingdom, the madness that Black Widows walked carefully. But when Prince Frank lay dying in her arm, she'd broken with sanity for a while and had done what needed to be done, to avenge him and protect the other males who would've died to defend her.

Now though she felt regret, not because those horrid men were dead, but because her actions had been necessary to begin with. Knowing that she'd be remembering in her dreams those minds and lives she snuffed out in the weeks to come, she knew she'd be paying the price for her deeds soon enough.

Then two angry, but not killing-edge angry, Warlord Princes stormed into the room with an almost as angry Prince. The other men in the room tensed. Quincy struggled to sit up against the Healer's orders; to defend if need be, until Rachel tapped his first inner barrier, telling him she could handle this.

"Clear the room," Tom ordered as Rachel put down her cup and he called in a trunk she recognized all too well.

"What are you doing with that?" she demanded.

Her tone and posture were a challenge a Black Widow shouldn't make of the Warlord Prince Captain of the ship, but she didn't really care at the moment. Kara Foster snuck a glance back as Danny ushered her from the room, the last humans to leave. Halsey paused, wanting to stay and unsure of whose side he should be taking.

"Lord Halsey, leave," Tom commanded and didn't miss the small nod Rachel gave to send the Sceltie out.

"What's in the trunk Lady Scott?" he asked when only Rachel and Quincy were left.

"Something private."

"Not anymore. The Ruskans were after you, Queen Debra set up this mission for you, and as Captain of this ship I need to know why," not a direct challenge of an out-ranking witch, but a careful reminder that he had a duty, a responsibility to every life on board the _Nathan James_.

He set the trunk down on the table next to Rachel's healing brew, all the while maintaining eye contact. Rachel looked away first, to glance at the trunk and cast a quick probe of its contents, as she considered what to say.

"Have you tried to contact Lady Debra's Court?" she asked; "Did anyone answer?"

"We've tried, no one's responded as of yet and I suppose you know why?"

Then Rachel sighed, the fight going out of her, but not her stubbornness. When she looked back at Tom there was tiredness and sorrow in her eyes, but determination as well.

"Six months ago, something in the land changed and began to poison the Blood. Dozens fell ill in only a few weeks and soon enough we were dealing with a plague. I'm not a natural, but I've been trained as a healer. When members of my Queen's court fell to the plague and the other Healers couldn't save them, I went to see if I could help. When I saw the ill, I knew the normal means of healing wouldn't work. I spun a tangled web, to see why this was happening and what could be done to save them – I was not the only one," Rachel rubbed her hand across her Gray Jewel, a distant look in her eyes;

"Blood in every Territory west of the Milky Way were falling ill with this plague. My Sisters in the affected regions spun their own webs as I did, but they saw the plague bringing only death and the end of the Blood. I saw that as well, but I saw a cure – the Primora. When I went to Carmilla, the Queen of Brytol, she refused to listen because she doesn't trust Black Widows, fears them really. I refused to let her opinions prevent me; I came to Amerik with Quincy as my escort and spoke to your Territory Queen," Rachel reached for her trunk, but Tom refused to let her take it and she relented, continuing;

"Lady Debra asked her Black Widows to see if what I saw was possible. They couldn't see the cure as I did, but they saw a chance for the Blood to survive if I was allowed to search for the Primora. Lady Debra listened to her Black Widows and set up this mission."

"If a plague is killing Blood, Lady Debra would have told us," Mike disputed; "We would've understood the importance of finding the only cure."

"Not in this case," Rachel countered, her answer unconvincing; "Your males, it is your right to defend. You would've wanted to stay and fight this plague, but you can't wage war on a disease."

"The plague comes from the land," Quincy spoke up; "As such the first to be infected are the Queens."

Now the other men understood and they snarled. Rachel could see them fighting internally with their first instinct to turn the ship around and head for home, to defend their Queen.

"This is exactly what we were trying to prevent," Rachel spoke to bring them back to the duty at hand; "If the cure is not found, all of the Blood will be dead before harvest. Lady Debra and her First Circle understood this and so they knew the importance of keeping you ignorant for as long as possible. Lady Debra accepted the price that might be paid; now you must as well."

They didn't like, but they listened, just as Quincy and the other males from home and Lady Debra's males had all listened in the end.

"Are you suggesting our Queen is dead?" Hugh asked softly, dangerously.

"No," Rachel answered sharply; "Lady Debra is a Red Jeweled Queen, she will have the reserve power necessary to fight off the infection, the first few times at least."

"What do you mean 'the first few times'?" Tom asked, well, demanded.

"The plague began in the land, as the strongest of the caretakers the Queens are the first to be infected, but not the first to die," Rachel explained sadly; "The Blood who wear no Jewels are the first to die in an infected region. The Jeweled Blood can tap into their reservoirs and flush the disease out, but the infection returns because the plague is in the land. Those recovering will not have long before they are infected again because the disease is by now in most the food and the water sources they know of. They will tap into their reservoirs again and again to fight off the infection, draining themselves more and more until they have no power left to fight with and then they will succumb. First the non-Jeweled, then the lighter Jeweled, and finally the darker Jeweled Blood will die."

"Do you have any way of knowing how far the plague has advanced?" Hugh asked when neither Tom nor Mike could bring themselves to voice the question.

"No," Quincy answered at the same time Rachel said; "Yes."

"Well, which is it no or yes?"

"When we set out, there was no way for us to be sure how the plague was progressing, but I have been working a new type of web these last few weeks. I recently completed it and now have a way of monitoring the death rank of the disease," Rachel explained and turned to face Quincy, needing him to understand; "The web only monitors when there have been deaths among a Jewel rank, that does not mean everyone in that rank is gone. There will be fighters, who will hold on, who will dole out their reservoirs carefully and will survive longer because of that."

"Rachel, get to the point," Quincy prompted in trepidation.

"As of this morning, those among the Rose began to die," Rachel answered, knowing it would cut Quincy to the core as his wife, Kelly, wore the Rose.

What she did not know then was that Tom's wife Darien also wore the Rose and that her sentence nearly destroyed two men. Mike placed a comforting hand on Tom's back, offering his support, while Rachel watched Quincy, wishing she could offer more help.

"We didn't get the chance to search all of Anu Isle, and can't now, the presence of the Ruskans make it too dangerous, but I don't believe your Primora was there," Hugh took charge for the moment.

"Then we need to make haste for the next Antar Isle," Rachel turned towards Hugh, giving Tom time to collect himself; "My webs cannot tell me on which island the Primora can be found, only that one of them has it. The plague is moving faster than anticipated, so we need to match it for speed as best we can. Finding the Primora is the key to creating a cure and saving everyone we love back on land."

"We understand, Lady," Tom focused on his mission, on protecting his Queen and Territory first as duty dictated, despite the damage to his heart; "However the storm has kept us at sea longer than expected, we will have to make a detour to Tanamo Island to resupply before we make a run for the next isle. That is if Tanamo Island is safe?"

"Whatever has changed on the mainland doesn't seem to be true out on the islands, but I will look into a spell for testing the land, food, and water for you before we arrive," Rachel conceded to his expertise.

"Good, good. Mike, in two hours muster the crew on deck, they need to know what is going on."

"Aye Captain," Mike answered and left the room.

"Captain, might I suggest looking into a secure way for people to call home, to see if anyone can make contact?" Hugh suggested.

"That's a good idea; find Mason from Comms and gets his help on that," Tom delegated, Hugh nodded and also left the room.

"And what is in the trunk?" Tom asked weighed down with his new duty, bringing their conversation back full circle.

"Fully contained samples of the plague that I will test my cure on once we find the Primora," Rachel answered, finally easing the trunk out from under his hand and vanishing it.

"Keep it that way," Tom replied, too troubled to deal with that problem at the moment.

After Tom left a few seconds later, Rachel moved to sit next to her Purple Dusk Warlord.

"Rose, it's already reached the Rose?" he murmured.

"I'm so sorry, Quincy, but don't give up yet. You know Kelly is a fighter, besides if she and Ava went into the mountains as I told them to, then they should be safe from the plague long enough for us to find the cure."

"I know; I have faith in you, Rachel, as does Kelly. But is it wise to still be keeping secrets from Prince Chandler?"

"For now, we both have enough problems to deal with, those other ones can wait. Besides, between you and the Sceltie, I'm going to be hounded enough; I don't need any more males fussing over me."

"As you will, Lady," Quincy replied, his Protocol wording agreeing to abide by her decision while disagreeing with her choice, especially the having enough fussing males part.

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Tom wearily surveyed his crew of 216 honorable and brave individuals who all served Queen Debra. They were all good men and women and he was about to shatter their worlds. It was probably for the best that Rachel had chosen to keep Quincy company as he rested in his room. Once they got over their shock and anger the crew would have many questions for her, though Halsey had already made it clear he would nip anyone that upset or overly stressed the Black Widow.

As the last few crew members settled into formation, Mike and Hugh came to stand behind Tom as a united front. Looking out over those curious and somewhat wary faces, Tom inhaled deeply and steeled himself for what was to come.

"As most of you have sensed these last few weeks, something was off with the psychic energies coming from home. I now know why that has been so and the news is far from good. There is a plague that is sweeping through every Territory west of the Milky Way Mountains and it is killing all the Blood it infects."

Here he had to wait as the disbelief and then fear rolled out, the crew shifted, murmurs abound, and then Protocol won out and they returned their focus to him:

"Lady Scott, however, has seen the way to cure the land and our loved ones, but to do that we _must_ find the Primora. Without it all the Blood will die. Our Queen gave us this mission and so we will see it through. We will help Lady Scott find the Primora and create the cure. Then we will head home to save our families and friends," emotions settled as the crew picked up on his confidence and faith; "This mission will not be easy. Every day that we are at sea, good people will die, but we cannot give up hope. We will not give up hope. We are the Blood, we have overcome many problems in the past, and this will one day be just another one our grandchildren tell their children about."

He paused, to let the ramifications sink in. Then he nodded to Hugh to step forward.

"In light of the situation at home, Prince Jeter and Journeyman Mason have created a temporary means of contacting home on the threads. Only the communications room has been spelled for these safe conversations, so we will have to take turns, but everyone is going to be given the chance to contact loved ones. Prince Jeter has arranged a rotation and will be informing you of your assignment now."

Tom stepped back and watched his crew. It was a lot to take in, a lot riding on hope, but his people were holding it together, and looking at their determined faces, he truly believed they would get through it.

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Sitting in spare chair in the communications room, Tom sank to the depths of the Sapphire and sent out a thread to Debra's Master of the Guard in the direction of Norfolk Port, the Queen's home village. Prince Graeton wore the Sapphire as well, so despite the distance they would be able to converse with ease, if Graeton answered Tom's call.

*Prince Chandler?* Graeton responded after Tom's second attempt.

*Yes, Prince Graeton, it's Tom Chandler. Lady Scott has informed us about the plague. How is Queen Debra?*

*The Queen survives,* Graeton replied after a delay, *and her Court holds, though many are now dead. Have you found what you were looking for?*

*Not yet,* Tom understood Graeton's caution when it came to details and followed the other Warlord Prince's lead; *We are heading towards the next location, but will not stop until we do.*

*Good, the Queen wills that you do so. We have faith in you and Lady Scott. May the Darkness be merciful.*

*May the Darkness protect you,* Tom replied and then Graeton ended the conversation.

Regardless of the spells in place, Tom agreed with Graeton's prudent actions. All the relevant information had been exchanged; there was no reason to continue talking, not with Ruskans out there. Now that he'd fulfilled his court obligations, Tom sent out a thread again on the Sapphire, sending this thread in a direction several miles south of Norfolk Port. He was desperately hoping for a response along the Rose, but after several minutes a Red replied instead:

*Son, is that you,* his father's familiar psychic energy resonated along the thread.

*It's me, Father, it's me. How are you? Darien? The kids?*

*We thought we'd lost you out at sea, are you well?* his father evaded.

*Father, what's wrong? How is Darien?* Tom gripped the armrests of his chair tightly; *Answer me.*

*I'm fine and so are Ashley and Sam,* his father answered, pain leaking through their bond; *I'm sorry son, but Darien is not well.*

*She's drained her reserve energy fighting off the plague,* Tom squeezed his eyes shut, wanting to shut out the pain now cleaving his heart.

*Yes, but she's holding on, she's fighting it with everything she has son. What of you? Has the plague touched you all the way out there?*

*No, I am well. The plague cannot reach me out here.*

*Are you coming home son?*

*No, I cannot yet. My Queen has sent me on a mission that relates directly to this plague. It will take time, but I'm going to do it, I have to see it through for all of the Blood. Just hold on until I do. Tell Darien. . . tell Darien and the kids that they have to keep fighting until I come home.*

*I will son, we won't give up. Come home soon.*

*I will, I will,* Tom answered; then let his father go.

He bowed his head and trembled. This was only the beginning of the price he would pay to save the world.


	5. Welcome to Tanamo Pt 1

Disclaimer: If I were a cat burglar I would so nick me the rights to TNT's The Last Ship and Anne Bishop's The Black Jewels Trilogy. Alas, I am terribly clumsy and don't condone stealing, oh well, I can dream.

**A/N**: Forgot to mention last time, but I'm breaking the story up into the episodes they sort of follow, usually four chapters per ep. Reviews make my day, critiques improve my writing. Thanks, enjoy the story.

Chapter Five

Alisha looked out across the ocean from her post at the wheel of the _Nathan James_, watching as the island of Tanamo became a larger, ever growing black dot on the horizon. It was early in the morning and the sun was rising, occasionally striking the water just right to blind Alisha temporarily. Well, it would have blinded her, if she hadn't created a thin shield to protect her eyes; a shield that also allowed her to still enjoy the beauty of the view.

For Alisha, some of her best memories contained mornings on the bridge of the ship. There was only her and a few of her closest crewmates manning the bridge, a good cup of hot, fresh coffee at hand, and the ocean singing to them. She had yet to find a memory that could compare to the beauty of these moments, of the solitude and yet comradery, the stillness and constant motion, the peace of it all.

It was out on the ocean that Alisha found her first love, in part because it was where she'd first felt free. At home she was a disappointment to her family, a light Jeweled witch of no important caste. Oh her family had loved her all the same and she loved them, but they'd never quite forgiven her for not being the potential power boost they'd hoped she would be. Her refusal to share her bed with a man had further hurt their ambitious dreams and soured their relationship until Alisha had escaped to the ocean.

She'd been afraid the first time she stepped foot on a boat. She'd been afraid she wouldn't be able to handle the travel, wouldn't be good enough to stay, and that she'd been sent home where who she was would have surely died under all the expectations of her family. But instead she'd found her real home, found a job she loved, and a crew who'd become her new family. She found out who she really was and found acceptance for all she was.

On the _Nathan James_ she was as important as every other member of the crew and she'd more than earned her right to stay. She was one of the best navigator-pilots in the Queen's fleet, she had someone she loved waiting for her at home, and she had had so much to live for, a future she hadn't thought possible once.

Now though that future was on the verge of being destroyed. All of her loved ones on land, whom she'd always thought of as being some place safe, were now the ones she feared for the most. She'd had only an inkling of danger; sensed something was a bit off when the _Nathan James _had set out, but she'd never suspected that it would be this bad and not this quickly.

At times it was hard to believe that there was plague raging through the Territories that the Healers couldn't treat, a plague that was killing all the Blood and only the Blood. At first she hadn't believed the Captain, even though he had no reason to lie and never would about something so serious. But it had just seemed too preposterous.

Then the crew had started contacting home and learning about the deaths of neighbors, friends, and family. They learned of entire villages already wiped out, of **Queens** who had been killed, and the plague became all too real. At only the Yellow, Alisha didn't have the range to contact home from this far out. Her friends who could reach across the distance had done their best to send word to her loved ones for her, but she would have no way of knowing if those messages made it in time.

All she could do, all anyone on the _Nathan James_ could do, was trust that Prince Chandler knew what he was risking and that Lady Scott could pull off the miracle she'd brought them out to the Antar Isles to find.

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"This is the _Nathan James_ hailing the Tanamo station, do you read?" Apprentice Barker tried for the third time since the _Nathan James_ had come in range of the island.

Alisha watched from her post, trepidation growing. The Captain was on the bridge, Prince Slattery standing behind him on the left, and though neither let it show on their faces, Alisha could tell they were both very concerned by the lack of response. Lady Rachel was also on the bridge, not bothering to hide her frown at Tanamo's silence.

When Rachel's hand came up to touch her Jewel, Alisha was startled to see her wearing the Gray. Alisha, along with the rest of the _Nathan James_ had heard about Lady Scott's true Jewel strength after Anu, but as Protocol dictated no one had commented on the fact she chose to wear only her Sapphire Jewels openly. Of course if Alisha wore that dark of Jewels she probably wouldn't want to broadcast the fact either; though she didn't care about how dark the Lady's Jewels were, she'd seen how other lighter Jeweled Blood tended to react to darker Jewels and could empathize with the Black Widow.

Now though Rachel wore the Gray, even though she'd stepped onto the bridge with the Sapphire, and she had an unfocused look in her eyes as Barker tried again to contact Tanamo.

"Prince Chandler, no one is going to answer," the Brytol witch spoke up, her expression turning sad; "There are no Blood on Tanamo Island."

"What do you mean?" Tom turned, saw Rachel's face, and understood; "You shouldn't be testing for life, any pirate ship within the vicinity will know our position now."

"We don't have to worry about that, unless the pirates have managed to recruit a Gray Jeweled or darker Blood to join them," Rachel replied tartly; "I do know the dangers of the sea, Prince."

"My apologies Lady," the Captain replied, "but you still should've asked me before you placed yourself and this crew at risk," and Rachel looked ready to argue that point.

"Lady, I thought you said the plague hadn't reached out this far," Prince Slattery questioned.

"It hasn't, the land is still clean," Rachel replied and Alisha wondered how she could sense that from this distance; "I don't know how the Blood of Tanamo Island are dead, I only know that they are all dead."

"It seems unlikely that anything else would kill off an entire Territory, even one of Tanamo's size," the Captain considered.

"You said the plague works like any other disease once it's infected a person correct?" Alisha asked Rachel, recalling the explanation the other witch had given after the plague was revealed.

"Yes, it does," Rachel turned her attention to Alisha as did most of the bridge.

"So if an infected person came to Tanamo Island, the plague could spread among the Blood and not infect the land, right?"

"That is possible, but I was under the impression Tanamo Island couldn't be reached by the Winds and there are no foreign ships in port that I can see."

"Lighter Winds are too unstable to ride out this far and the darker Winds have been known to be spotty, but they're there," the Captain replied.

"Then there is the chance that the plague has found its way to Tanamo Island, killing the Blood here without infecting the land," Rachel confirmed; "But there will be no way to know for certain until we see the dead."

"If the plague has reached the island, the food and water could be contaminated and how will we know for certain if our shields protect us from infection? Is it all really worth the risk?" Prince Mike played devil's advocate.

"It will have to be, we need the supplies," Prince Tom replied terse.

"If you shield as I've told you to, then you won't have to worry about infection," Lady Rachel spoke up; "As for contamination, I have devised a spell to test for it and confirmed that it works, so there will be no need to worry about that."

"How exactly have you tested your spell when the plague isn't onboard?" Prince Mike asked, giving voice to Alisha's question.

"Mike," the Captain cautioned, giving Rachel a curt shake of the head.

Prince Slattery's eyes took on an unfocused look, the sign of psychic communication the Blood sometimes had, and then his cheek twitched and he nodded to Tom. Alisha didn't know what had been said, but she knew what the twitching cheek met – Prince Slattery wasn't pleased with the response that he'd received, but he wasn't going to continue the discussion in front of the crew. Whether or not the two Warlord Princes ever continued to discuss disagreements such as this one in private, no one on the crew knew for certain and as such there was a large betting pool on the subject.

"All right then, we lay anchor and resupply, but we do this quick and contained," Tom started to plan out loud; "Journeyman Mejia, find me the maps of Tanamo Island that focus on the Blood ports and main towns, the Queen's Residence too."

"Aye sir," the navigator replied, calling in maps he'd had at the ready since Tanamo Island was announced as their destination.

The maps were laid out and weighed down over the tactical console as the Captain and Prince Slattery took up positions around it, Mejia and Rachel joining them.

"We'll need three teams at a minimum," Mike said; "One for Craft materials, one for food, and another for Healer supplies. Limit four members to a team, at least two trained fighters with experience on each team."

"Agreed."

"Quincy should be on the team going for the Craft materials, there are some things I need him to collect for me for my work," Rachel inserted, paused as if considering her wording, and then charged right on; "I will need to go along with the Healer team as well."

"Absolutely not," Prince Chandler retorted with a barely Protocol courteous; "Lady."

"There are supplies I need, some of which is for Craft you are best not knowing anything about," Rachel replied, a not-so subtle reminder that she was a Black Widow of the secretive Hourglass coven.

"Then unfortunately, you will have to do without," Tom answered; "You are too valuable to this mission to go on such an uncertain landing. There is no Primora on Tanamo Island and there are too many unknowns about what has happened to the Blood there, too many dangers to take the risk of losing you."

"Lord Green will be going on this landing, he can be assigned to retrieve your supplies," Mike continued to argue the point from another angle; "If you tell him what you need, he can get it for you without ever needing to know how it is used."

Despite the interest the argument had been drawing from all the crew on the bridge, most everyone had to look away as the Green Jeweled Warlord Prince not-so-subtly threatened the Black Widow with a Sceltie. It was no secret that since Anu Isle, Lord Halsey had become attached to the Brytol witch, and like all kindred, he had no problem sticking his nose in her business and herding her when she was being "a stubborn sheep." At his threat, Rachel blanched, and Alisha wondered what kind of arguments the witch and dog had already had about Halsey's protective instincts – she didn't have to wonder about who had won though, the Sceltie always did.

"Fine, Princes, I will stay onboard this time," Rachel conceded, though she looked as if she still wanted to argue.

Alisha noted then that the other witch looked an almost green shade of pale white and it occurred to her that maybe Lady Rachel just wanted to be on solid ground again for a while. Very few of the Blood were built to handle the sea, Alisha knew, she was one of the few along with some members of the _Nathan James_ like Captain Chandler. There were some who learned to handle like water, such as Prince Slattery and most of the _Nathan James_, and then there were those who couldn't handle it ever.

Wrapped up in their planning, the two Warlord Prince retired to the Captain's office, Mejia in tow, as they continued to iron out who would be going and where each team would check first. Along the way to the office, Alisha had no doubt that the team leaders would be contacted and ordered to the room before the final planning would begin.

Lady Rachel stayed, looking out the windows at Tanamo Island almost longingly.

"Will it really work?" Alisha found herself asking; "Will the Primora save all the Blood?"

"Nothing is certain, not in life or the Hourglass Craft," Rachel replied; "But would you give up hope, Lady Granderson?"

Looking at the Black Widow, Alisha thought about her answer, really thought about it. With what she knew about the plague raging through the Blood, she didn't think there was much hope. But then she considered what Lady Scott and Lord Tophet had done, leaving behind their home Territory and convinces the neighboring Territory Queen to hear them out, believe them, and sponsor their mission to find a flower that was possibly only a myth. If they could do all that on the small hope from what Lady Rachel had seen in her tangled web, then Alisha decided she could place the same faith in the Captain and this unusual witch before her and hope with everything in her.

As Alisha came to her decision, Rachel smiled and left, not needing Alisha to respond to know her answer. Sometime later as Alisha mulled over the conversation again, it occurred to her that perhaps Rachel had stayed behind with the intent of giving Alisha some peace of mind and it made her respect the consideration and compassion of the Brytol witch even more.

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Three of the _Nathan James_'s four skiffs skimmed across the surface of the ocean, churning their way towards Tanamo Island. They diverged half a mile out from the _Nathan James_, each heading to distant destinations on the island. Craft-powered engines sped them along soundlessly, unlike their noisy, giant counterparts on the _Nathan James_.

The battleship sat within Tanamo Bay, but like all large ships it couldn't dock at port, even if Tom had been willing to take the risk. The protected coral reef that surrounded all of Tanamo Island also threatened the hulls of any low-riding ship, rising up to give only a few feet of clearance to a boat of even the skiff's size. For this reason only small boats and fishing ships ferried in and out of the Tanamo ports. Any large ships that came to Tanamo Island rested in the bay and only for a short time to trade. The rest of the time the largest boats on the island were the fishing schooners as the Tanamo Queens had a tradition of refusing to build a proper fleet.

Tom guided his skiff towards one the large port-towns on the island with a steady hand. Inside he was dancing near the killing edge. He wanted this mission over and done with, wanted the _Nathan James_ away from the island where all the psychic energies were tainted with death. However, despite his precarious control of his temper at times, he wasn't going to lose control now – not when his crew was counting on him. He wasn't going to allow himself to make a mistake, just because the danger clawed at him. He was trained for this, to shoulder this kind of responsibility, even if his instructors hadn't quite had this in mind when they were teaching him.

He would keep his crew safe, so long as the Darkness was merciful, he would. And soon they would find the Primora; get the cure. Then they would go home. But first he'd focus on retrieving the food his crew needed to keep going, he'd worry about the rest later.


	6. Welcome to Tanamo Pt 2

Disclaimer: Wishing next summer wasn't so far away so that I can enjoy the next season of TNT's _The Last Ship_ and that school wasn't so hectic so that I could reread Anne Bishop's _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy.

Chapter Six

The ride into Anu Isle had been serious, but amicable and relaxed. Then a good Prince had died and so had some Ruskan pirates, and the crew of the _Nathan James_ had learned everyone they loved was dying. In short, it was no surprise that this ride into Tanamo was subdued and tense, but Hugh couldn't help but note the differences in atmosphere.

"Look, I see people," Officer Bishop said hopefully as he guided the skiff.

Hugh glanced in the direction the young man was pointing and sighed:

"Those are landen, boyo," he referred to the non-Blood humans, who lived apart from the Blood but under the Queen's rule; "See how they're docking at a port far south from the rest of the town? That port connects to their small town that border Gitmo."

"The Blood of Gitmo live very close to the landens," Lord Quincy remarked.

"They didn't always; both towns have grown over the years, edging together," Hugh recalled.

"I wonder what they think of the plague," Lady Andrea Garnett mused; "Did anyone bother to explain what was killing off the Blood before it was too late? Perhaps we should tell them what is happening?"

"No," the men said together.

"Rachel and the other Black Widows all say the plague won't affect the landens," Quincy voiced the reasons agreed upon during the planning of this trip; "There is no reason to waste time on explaining the problem to them when they cannot help, aren't immediately affected, and might take advantage of the situation if they understood it better."

"With all the Blood on Tanamo being dead, the landens are immediately affected," Andrea pointed out, but didn't press the issue in face of male stubbornness.

The rest of the trip into Gitmo, the largest port town on Tanamo, went quietly and quickly. Officer Bishop skillfully guided the skiff around tight obstacles and into a docking position between two moored fishing boats. Hugh scanned the vicinity once, ensuring there was no immediate danger, and then helped out in anchoring the skiff, making it ready for a fast retreat if need be.

Quincy took up a watch position on the dock, still a little unsteady on his feet with his recent injury not fully healed. He wouldn't be a hindrance in a fight if it came down to that, but he wouldn't be much of a help either. Hugh hoped that there wouldn't be any fighting while on the mission. As a Prince he didn't have as strong a temper for it as a Warlord Prince, but he'd been out at sea and seen too much to naïvely believe there was no chance of them stepping onto a killing field today.

He helped Lady Garnett cross from the skiff to the dock, Quincy also offering his arm to the sole witch on their team. An Opal Jeweled witch of no other caste, she accepted their help without complaint, unlike some women who always saw male chivalry as another form a fussing and argued about it. She also didn't say anything when the three males formed a protective triangle around her as they moved in towards the town for which Hugh was grateful. But then they all understood the importance of getting this mission done as quickly as possible.

"Shields," Hugh ordered just before they entered Gitmo.

Individually, they wrapped themselves in full body shields of their darkest Jewel strength. As a group, they layered large shields around their party, Andrea's Opal strength providing their outermost shield. Then they trotted into town, prepared to fight or to see the many bodies of the dead.

"What happened here?" Bishop asked.

He was referring to the residual psychic scents that covered the town with fear and aggression and desperation. The burned down row of houses, blood splattered walls, and drag marks on the streets pointed to ends far more violent than the plague and had everyone on edge. The lack of bodies or even the scent of corpses was also disconcerting.

"Maybe Rachel was right, maybe the plague didn't kill the people here," Quincy offered as they saw more signs of fighting as they moved further in town.

"No," Hugh disagreed, an old hurt throbbing in his chest; "This is what sometimes happens when a court loses its Queen suddenly, especially if the Queen was a strong one with dark Jeweled males."

Hugh closed his eyes for a moment, to block the memories of the broken court that had taught him this lesson and the loved ones he'd lost there. Then he sent out a quick warning to the other teams, this looked like the work of males enraged with grief who were more than likely dead now. Still it didn't hurt to prepare the others.

"But where are all the bodies?" Bishop asked.

"Not our concern at the moment," Hugh said, though he wondered the same; "Keep your shields tight and take a left, the main square should be up ahead."

Hugh's information was correct as they came into the brick street, heavily spelled square not a minute later. There still were no signs of bodies, no smell of the dead either; it was as if all the Blood in Gitmo just up and decided to walk away one day. But there were plenty of emotional residues left that told a different story and left them all on edge.

"That looks like a carpenter's shop," Andrea gestured to the building nearest them; "Good place as any to begin, don't you think?"

There were a few protection and anti-theft spells that Hugh had to break through first before he allowed Andrea to approach the door and test the shop for the plague. The witch pulled out the small jar and brush that Lady Scott had given her and painted a small "X" on the door with the blue paste. Softly she chanted the incantation she'd been taught and then stood back as the spell took effect. The spell penetrated deep into the shop and surrounding ground, searching the entire area for any traces of the plague, itching at the psychic senses of the waiting Blood. When the spell finished, the "X" turned white.  
>"Does that mean we're safe to go in?" Bishop asked as Andrea vanished the jar and brush.<p>

"Red you're dead, white go ahead," Quincy quipped.

"We've got the all clear, but I'll be going in first," Hugh ordered, drawing Andrea back behind him.

They searched the carpenter's shop and came away with some of the Craft supplies they needed, having lost a few list items to anti-theft spells they couldn't remove. They systematically moved on and cleared eight other shops along the square; working in the same manner they had the first. They found plenty of Craft supplies for the general maintenance of the _Nathan James_ and bagged the goods before vanishing them, but they were nowhere near carrying their limits and still had several key items they needed to find.

Then finally they found the Craft-shop of Gitmo, a squat and ugly building that was three times as long as it was tall. Crammed into a corner between a dress shop and sweet shop, it was painted a hideous burnt orange. It didn't look like much from the outside and Hugh had little hope that they'd actually find what they were looking for; then he went to disable the protection spells.

"Hell's Fire," he yelped as he ran into a shield that rebound his power at him instead.

"What's wrong?" Andrea asked, reaching out for her own prob.

"Careful, Lady, those defenses have quite a punch."

"I can see that," Andrea said, considering the delightful puzzle before her; "A crafty trick, you encountered Prince, but it doesn't hold up well to the second attempt. We'll be able to get through that shield just fine, but the ones underneath are going to be a problem."

"What do you mean?"

"There are several layers of shields around the shop and what feels like two locks, Summer-sky and Opal, twisted together protecting the place," Lady Garnett replied after a moment of further probing; "We've got the necessary strength here to get through them, but it will take time."

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Danny and his team sailed straight up to the Territory Queen's private deck. Under normal circumstances, their actions would've been met by the blades of the nearest guards and a challenge to step on the killing field. In the new circumstances, they docked without a lick of trouble, not even from the defensive spells that should've been guarding the deck.

Wary, in case there were any secondary spells waiting to attack them, his team trekked forward until they reached land. Then with Halsey guiding them by nose, they set off through the well-nurtured forest that sheltered the Queen's Residence from the bay. On foot, following the designated path, the trip would take them close to an hour at least. With Halsey to guide them on a short cut through the forest at a steady trot, they'd be able to cut their time into a third.

For a fraction of a second, Danny started to smile, thinking of a quip Frank would've used to spoil the moment. Then he remembered why his closest friend was no longer there to make that quip and the humor left him. Mother Night, how he missed Frank.

Frank and he had been like brothers. They'd met as youths at the mountain training camps, back when war with Ruska Territory had been a possibility. When the Territory Queens has resolved the issues and signed the peace treaty, they'd stuck together and joined the Queen's navy. They'd been through the highs and lows of many years together and now Frank was gone.

His friend had died with honor, defending as was his right, but to Danny those words held no comfort in the face of his grief. Kara did her best to support him as he worked through his grief in private, but she could only empathize so much having never lost anyone important to her, yet. The rest of the crew tried their best to make things easier on Danny, but the situation at hand required him to hide his wounds and fight on, even though what he really needed was time, time they didn't have.

*Danny, there are sad smells ahead, do we go around?* Halsey asked on a spear thread.

Danny pulled out of his thoughts and considered the situation. He didn't have the Sceltie's nose but even he could pick up the psychic tendrils that crept through the forest. Overwhelming fear made the air bitter, flooding despair chilled the temperature, and death, death touched everything. They were at the edge of the psychic field, if they continued on their path, they would head deeper into the clogging emotions, but going around would cost them time and time was of the essence.

"We go forward," Danny told Halsey and then joined his friend, matching the four-legged trot as they followed the scents to their source.

They came to a clearing where the psychic energies were most potent. A giant white tent sat towards the center, encompassing over half the clearing. A large fire pit, still cluttered with thick black and gray-white ash took up a third of what was left. Danny wrapped tight shields around the shields he and Halsey were already wearing; Cossetti and Lance, the other men with him, did the same.

On hunch, Danny used the paste on the ground of the clearing and activated the spell to test for the plague. The blue gunk turned red in a heartbeat. He and the other human men swore.

*Danny, why are the dead Blood all the way out here under the large sheep coat?* Halsey asked, still standing outside the clearing.

"The Territory Queen probably set this place up as a quarantine when people first started getting sick," Danny explained, then remembered who he was talking to; "The Queen separated the sick humans from the healthy ones to try and stop the plague from spreading and to make caring for the sick easier."

Halsey dipped his head in understanding, but didn't move from his position.

*The ground is not well in there, you should come back. Rachel will not want you to walk there,* Halsey whined when Danny and the other men started for the tent.

"Stand guard where you are Lord Halsey, the men and I need to confirm that there are no survivors," Danny ordered, silently wondering what they would do about the bodies afterwards.

There were more bodies in the tent than Danny had thought possible. Some lay in neatly organized rows, in individual cots; most lay in groups, families clutched tightly together as the end neared. Bright red blisters, dark red rashes, and crimson blood pouring from eyes and ears and mouths. Everywhere, everyone was dead. The leftover emotions were too much for Danny or the other men to handle, choking and gagging they fled from the tent, not daring to breathe until they were outside.

A moment or two later Danny felt a tap on his inner barriers, distaff to spear.

*Lord Green,* Lady Scott said when Danny answered; *Lord Halsey tells me you've located a quarantine zone and that the land appears to be infected. I need you to tell me what you see.*

Knowing Halsey wouldn't have contacted the Bryt witch unless he though the matter extremely important and that she wouldn't have reached out to Danny if she hadn't agreed, Danny did better than tell. He opened up his first inner barrier to her and showed her the clearing and the contents inside the tent. To allow her in, even if it was only the first barrier, he offered her a great amount of trust with his actions, because Halsey trusted her so and Danny trusted the kindred's judgment. Rachel reached out, riffled through the images so gently Danny hardly felt her, and then pulled out.

*They burned the bodies,* Rachel said, sorrow coming across the thread; *That is what has allowed the plague to touch the land there, but it isn't deep yet. You will have to burn the bodies and several inches deep into the land with witchfire to prevent the spread of the plague.*

*You want us to burn the land and the dead, Lady?*

*You must Lord Green, or else all of Tanamo Island will become like the mainland. We must care for the land as we would the people, only when both thrive will our lives be as fulfilling as they should, that is what it means for us to be caretakers Danny.*

*I see Lady, we will do as you say,* Danny replied.

And he did see, for Rachel returned his trust by showing him memories from her own mind, of the importance of the land. They as Blood cared for the land and in return the land cared for them. Part of the problem of the plague was that they couldn't care for the land, purge it of the plague, and so it couldn't help them. Danny then understood that this search for the Primora wasn't just about finding a cure for the people, but finding a cure for the land as well. He knew he wasn't the only Blood that hadn't understood that, but Rachel had from the beginning.

With Cossetti and Lance's help, Danny burned the tent full of bodies in witchfire. When the tent was nothing more than harmless ash, they turned their attention to the ground, working in sections as they had to be extra careful not to let the flames spread into the healthy forest. Halsey was their nose again; more attuned with the land, the dog could tell when they hadn't burned deep enough to cleanse the earth of the plague and when they nearly went too far.

When they were done, Danny wiped the sweat off his forehead. He felt more tired from that controlled bit of Craft then he had after fighting a battle against pirates which had lasted for nearly a day. He ordered a rest before he and the men continued on their way. He could've tapped into his Jewels and drained a little of that energy to give him the strength he needed to continue and had the others do the same, but he had a feeling they'd need that reserve energy later. So they rest for a while, staring at a white-ash clearing that still swam with terrified emotional remnants.

"Where are the defensive spells?" Cossetti asked nearly an hour later as they approached the Territory Queen's Residence.

Danny was wondering the same thing, though he didn't voice his thoughts aloud. This close to the Queen's most private place, they should've felt at least the whisperings of layered shields ready to deploy if the Queen came under attack. But Danny didn't sense intact spells, even when he sank to the depths of his Green Jewel, all he felt was something broken beyond repair.

Halsey uttered a low growl that was filled more with anguish than anger and then he slunk towards the nearest door, waiting at the entrance for the other men to catch up. Moving softly, with the utmost care they made their way into the mansion that housed the Queen. At first they found nothing; then in one hall they saw the signs of an angry male venting his emotions on an unsuspecting wall. Down that hall, into the room it led to they discovered what made Halsey keen and howl in grief.

An entire court lay dead in the dining room, their Queen at the center wearing what had once been a Yellow Jewel, a Queen of Tanamo Island, but not the Territory Queen. Further investigation of the rooms led them to the bodies of six other courts and the signs of grieving males who'd lost their Queens before they'd lost their own lives to the plague. Finally in what would've been the Territory Queen's personal side of the house, they found her, surrounded by her Court and family, all dead.

Having confirmed the Territory Queen was dead, Danny led his team out of the mansion. Outside, away from the terrible sight, they paid tribute to the dead with a moment of silence. The Territory Queen had worn the Rose, a light Jewel on the mainland, but on Tanamo where the Jewels rarely reached the Opal line, it was dark enough to rule. But not dark enough in this case.

"All right boyos," Danny said and his voice croaked so he coughed once and continued; "Let's find that garden, get what we came for, and then we'll honor the dead when safe onboard the _Nathan James_."

They didn't have the time or energy to burn these bodies. Contained inside the house, there was no danger of them infecting the land, making it unnecessary anyway.

"Aye sir," the men replied as Halsey went; "Grf."

As none of them were very much into gardening at home, it took them a while to locate what had been the Healer's garden with a little help from the sketches Rachel had provided. They actually found the Black Widow's garden first and collect everything Rachel had had on her list.

"Green," Cossetti called as Danny vanished the last plant and its matching sketch.

"Did you find the Healer's garden?" he asked, heading around a rather obnoxious bush.

"What's left of it," Cossetti muttered darkly as Danny stopped next to him, looking at the burned out garden patch.

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Tom's initial plan for collecting the food the_ Nathan James_ needed had been quick and direct.

It was a well-known fact that all Courts kept treasuries from surplus harvests in case of famine or bad harvests. District and Province Queens kept only small stores within their home villages, meant to provide for a town or two for one winter season. Territory Queens kept several of such treasuries that usually amounted to enough supplies to feed a District for a season, though these treasuries were held away from the people and their locations were meant to be kept a secret.

Tanamo Island wasn't a large Territory though and so over the years Tom and others among his crew had heard of the locations of a few of the Territory Queen's treasuries. The only one they knew for certain was a treasury holed up in a marsh, just outside the village of Prisan. With all the Blood on the island dead, they didn't need the food anymore or need to be paid, so taking from the treasuries was the most efficient course of action, especially since there was little chance the food inside had been infected with the plague.

As such Tom and his team, consisting of Warlords Miller and Smith and Prince Burk, had planned on docking at Prisan and taking the road out of the village to the marsh. Then they were going to locate the treasury and clear a direct route to it. They'd work in shifts to haul the stores back to the dock where Tom would signal Mike and a second skiff would be sent to help ferry the supplies back to the _Nathan James_.

That had been the plan at least until Tom set foot on Tanamo Island and his Warlord Prince instincts told him he was stepping into a war zone. He'd immediately dashed his plans, at least in how his team would go about reaching the treasury. When he'd stepped into Prisan, his decision had been further supported by what he saw there.

Tom had heard Hugh's warning about the fallout from the shattered courts, but the level of violence he was seeing in Prisan didn't fit with grieving Blood males fighting. There were arrows imbedded into the walls and doors of the houses that lined the streets. He found defensive barricades blocking one entire side street along with crudely made weapons out of cheap clubs and pitchforks. Worst of all there were the black leaves of witchblood, the plant that grew where a witch's blood or life had been spilt in violence, growing next several of the houses and the plants were just budding. There was no one in Prisan but him and his men, but still he knew there was danger lurking, a war waiting to continue.

He'd found the fastest way out of town and split up his team to clear the houses along the way; Smith with him on the right, Miller and Burk on the left. With each house they cleared, they set up shields along the way, clearing and securing their entire path. In each house he and Smith went in, they found the same thing, looting. But whoever the looters had been, they had left behind many valuable items, such as jewelry, and cleaned out only the Craft books and supplies. Tom wasn't sure what it meant, but he logged away the details to consider them later.

When Tom and Smith finished clearing the last house on their side, they stepped out and Smith put up Yellow shields, blocking the house from the street they'd taken over. Burk and Miller finished up with their house and came over as Tom considered the empty road in front of them.

"Now what Prince?" Burk asked, spokesman for his brothers.

"We'll keep the road insight, but travel along the sides until we reach the marsh," Tom decided that the trees and fields would provide sufficient protection for the time being; "If we need to we may cut away from the road entirely, keep your eyes out, there may be traps."

"Aye sir;" and they set off.

Not ten minutes out from the once homely village, they found the bodies in the fields. Seven men, all Blood who wore Jewels, the darkest being Summer-sky, and they hadn't been killed by the plague. Their Jewels were drained and three of them were pulled into a defensive circle, but they'd been killed with arrows and spears, not Craft or Jewel power. They hadn't been dead more than a few days either, Tom noted as he and Smith looked them over.

*Leave them,* Tom ordered on a common thread when Burk and Miller looked ready to walk across the road and see to their fallen brothers; *There is nothing more we can do for them now. We keep going to the treasury. *

They continued on following the road, war blades out and at the ready. They left behind the fields and reached the small forest that would empty out into the marsh. Tom could hear a stream trickling close by while the wildlife went about their daily chores. Strategically, he knew the forest would be the better place to spring an ambush and kept his senses on high alert. When they reached a fork in the road that they hadn't been expecting, they paused.

Tom called in the map he'd brought with him in case of this and consulted Mejia's detailed directions. He determined that they needed to continue along the road that went to the right, to head in the southeastern direction, which meant Burk and Miller needed cross the road. After he shared as much on a common thread, the Warlord and the Prince started their way over as Tom scanned ahead.

A glint of light had him snapping up a closed fist, signaling Burk and Miller to halt. The men threw up larger shields around the skin-tight ones they already wore while Tom and Smith investigated. Tom used hand signals to send Smith in from the left flank while he approached what had caught his attention directly.

The glint he'd seen was off a dining knife that was loosely bundled up with a couple households' worth of sharpened silverware and jagged rocks, the artillery of a simplistic catapult. A taunt, beige thread made for sewing clothes was all that it took to set the catapult off and Tom nearly stepped on it on his approach. Luckily he spotted the thread in time and adjusted his step; then he bent down to see where the thread stretched to and swore.

*Prince?* Burk asked spear to spear.

*You and Miller need to back away from your position slowly; go back down the road and cross at an early point. Watch your step you hear me.*

Burk nodded and began to retreat, taking Miller with him. Tom let out a sigh of relief when they were several paces back from their halted position. If they'd continued on a few feet more, at the angle they were going to cross the road, one or both of them would have set off the catapult. They would've had time to throw up stronger shields to protect themselves and they wouldn't have been hurt even if there was Craft behind the missiles. The effort though would have drained their Jewel strengths more than they could afford.

Tom sent Smith back to keep an eye on Burk and Miller. While the younger men were gone, he probed the trap for any hidden spells, there were none. After studying the design of the catapult and its release system, he figured out how to safely disable it. He had just finished setting the bundle of kitchen wear on the ground when his team rejoined him.

"We'll keep to this side of the road from here out, but I want to put some distance between us and it before we continue on," Tom informed the boyos.

Burk nodded, experience keeping his pulse calm and his mind sharp. Smith appeared a little nervous, but steady. Miller though was green when it came to war fare, Tom recalled, and it showed. He'd stood up fine back on Anu Isle when it was easy to see the enemy and step onto the killing field, but now he appeared shaken which wouldn't do.

Tom opened a private thread with Burk and told the older male to keep an eye on Miller; then they continued on. The forest swallowed them up and they neared the marsh, Tom sensing the change in the landscape. Miller had a bit of a scare with an unexpected squawking bird that he swung at with his blade, only to nearly hit Burk as he lost his balance. Burk macerated him and Tom let him go on for a bit so that the young Warlord would understand the depth of his mistake. Then he stepped in and took Miller's blade from Burk.

"Don't let it happen again," he said giving the Rose Warlord his weapon back.

Miller nodded; steadier and focused on the mission. That problem dealt with Tom returned to leading his team through the forest. They'd just reached the edge of the marsh when Tom spotted snare in the path they were taking. It was too large to be for anything but a human. He and Smith took one side with care, Burk and Miller the other, to see if they couldn't flush out any other traps.

Too late Tom realized there was Craft in this trap. He and Smith had already stepped into the second trap and released the spells there. A spell net landed on them from above, sapping at their shields and Jewel strength. The strength behind the net was lighter Jeweled, not enough to drain Tom fully, but Smith was only a Tiger Eye. Not enough time to think it through, Tom expanded his shields to protect the man under his care, taking the brunt of the whole spell net.

"Stay put!" Tom yelled at Burk and Miller who were moving carelessly in a bid to get to Tom and Smith.

Tom swung his sword in a sweeping arch. A spell net like this had to be connected to a source, if he could severe the connection, the spell would weaken and he could blast his way out of it. Burk and Miller yelled and Smith gurgled as he was speared by a javelin that passed through the spell net and a weak spot in Tom's shield. Tom rose to the killing edge, turning to face the enemy as another Warlord Prince burst from the bushes, sword swinging.


	7. Welcome to Tanamo Pt 3

Disclaimer: Let's see here (pulls out a piece of paper). Dang, this is just my math homework, not the rights to TNT's The Last Ship or Anne Bishop's The Black Jewels Trilogy. However I really do enjoy playing in both their worlds.

StarTraveler: Good guess, glad you're still reading this.

Mathi Bear: Thanks for the input, little details like clothing and physical descriptions don't seem to flow well when I'm typing, but I'll definitely work on incorporating them in more. Any other critiques you have will be greatly appreciated.

Chapter Seven

The enemy Warlord Prince gave a garbled yell as he charged Tom, long hair flying. Tom met him blade for blade on the killing field, snarling. Their blades sang as they clashed, Tom pulled his blade back and swung at the enemy again.

Dimly he was aware of Burk and Miller moving to hem in the other Warlord Prince. Burk added his own Opal shield to Tom's, taking off some of the drain of the spell net. There was nothing that could be done for Smith at the moment.

For Tom there as only the enemy who staggered under his second blow. The enemy Warlord Prince was physically weakened, Tom couldn't sense any Jewel power from his, and there was a crazed look to his killing edge-glazed eyes. A drained male lost without a Queen. Even with his shields depleted, Tom knew he was the victor of this particular battle.

The other Warlord Prince was too taxed to win the fight and he knew it too. But that didn't stop him from coming at Tom with everything he had in him, just as any Warlord Prince would. Despite his condition the Warlord Prince put up a good fight. He lunged and struck out with his blade in a deadly song, keeping to the offense as much as Tom.

Then the enemy fighter feinted left and struck at Tom's ribs; Tom pared the blow and countered with a thrust to the abdomen. The other man blocked the blow, but lost his grip on his blade for a moment. The precious seconds it took for him to recover his hold gave Tom the perfect opening into his guard.

Punching through the weakening spell net, Tom broke it and was free. He turned his full power and anger on the Warlord Prince who'd dared to challenge him to this killing field. He swung his blade, coming in for the kill blow and his enemy closed his eyes, accepting.

Then he felt the probing psychic presence, dark and feminine, commanding and soothing; Rachel.

Tom hesitated. The other Warlord Prince's eyes snapped open again, but the crazed look was gone from his expression. The man dropped his blade, for the first time recognizing Tom as like; then he stepped away from the killing field and the killing edge, conveying it in his stance and actions. Tom lowered his blade and the other Warlord Prince dropped to his knees, exhausted.

The fight was over, Tom vanished his blade, his priorities changed. A glance to Burk had the Prince stationing himself as guard behind the unknown Warlord Prince. Then Tom went to Smith, gesturing for Miller to join him. He'd talk to Rachel about her probing later, in person, when he was feeling more polite.

Reaching Smith, Tom was relieved to find the wound wasn't as grave as he'd first assumed. The javelin had pierced the young Warlord through the right shoulder, missing anything vital. Smith had lost a lot of blood and was initially unconscious when Tom reached him. In a Healer's hands, Tom knew the young man would survive, but getting him to one in time would be the challenge.

"Lay still Lord Smith," Tom commanded as he tested the wound and woke the Warlord, offering his a reassuring smile; "You took a bad hit, but if you're stubborn enough you'll pull through with a new scar to impress the ladies with. Unfortunately, before we get to that part, there is going to be more pain."

"I can handle it Prince," Smith rasped, trying to hold himself still.

"I had no doubt of that," Tom replied, directing Miller to immobilize Smith's upper body; "Are you ready?"

"Ye-agh!" Smith screamed as Tom sheared off the head of the javelin and pulled it out from under the Warlord.

Tom just as swiftly sheared off all but a hand's width of the butt of the javelin, leaving the rest in the young man so that it remained to restrict the blood loss. He snapped Sapphire shields around the both ends of the wound and applied what little of healing Craft he knew. It was nothing more than basic triage, but hopefully enough to get him back to the _Nathan James_.

"How is he?" an unfamiliar voice asked and Tom turned to look at the other Warlord Prince; "I do hope the fellow's goin' to live, didn't mean to attack brothers; thought y'all were landens."

"Landens?" Tom asked sharply.

"My crew and I went out to gather coral plants for the Healers. When we got back the landens were attakin' the Blood, slaughterin' us to prevent the plague from killin' their people. My men and I fought, defended with all we had, but we failed. Outnumbered and overwhelmed, we failed them all. Landens got all my men, dead; I barely escaped, swore to collect on the debt before I became a whisper in the Darkness."

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Hugh undid the final knot of Summer-sky thread under Andrea's guidance and the lock fell apart, the last one to go. Then it was a simple matter of applying the appropriate amount of power at the weakest spots on the shields to break them and Hugh and his team were into the Craft shop.

"Bishop, find a high position; I'll take low once Tophet and I have cleared the shop."

Bishop scanned for a good position, remaining to guard Andrea as the other two men entered the store. Clearing the building didn't take long, though there was a second exited that he had to secure, and then as Hugh slipped out of the door, Andrea slipped in. Hugh took up the low position he'd decided upon before entering, while Bishop headed to his chosen high spot. The two inside worked through their respective lists as quickly as they could.

*You're eleven,* Bishop warned on a thread several minutes later.

Hugh had just enough time to wrap another shield around his plague-protective shield before a dozen quarrels struck him. The quarrels hit his shields and burst upon impact, Hugh prepared himself for the draining pull of Craft that was meant to break through his shields. Only the drain never came, which confused him, as he called his blade in and searched for the attackers.

*I can't sense any Jewels,* Bishop said as he tried to target their unseen enemy.

More quarrels flew at Hugh and struck his shields, taking only the minimal energy from him required to deflect the missiles. There was no Craft attached to the quarrels and they burst upon impact with his shields. Considering the facts, Hugh realized they were facing off against landens. Whether or not the non-Blood humans intended to challenge them to a real fight, he couldn't be certain of at the moment; experience had taught him landens only fought the Blood when they had enough numbers to lose in the slaughter and these landens were hiding.

*Tophet, take the lady out through the back way and get her back to the skiff,* Hugh ordered on a private thread, then switched to common; *Landens are attacking, we'll defend and then retreat.*

Hugh was grateful that there were no Warlord Princes apart of his team; otherwise this skirmish would've already become a blood bath. As a Prince he was not as easy to pull onto a killing field and he certainly wasn't going to rise to the killing edge because some pig-brained landens decided to shoot arrows at him. His temper rising all the same, he sent out a burst of Summer-sky power in the direction most of the quarrels were coming from, and watched as the house buckled, but didn't completely collapse under the attack. If they were just dealing with some arrogant landen boys looking for a fight, that show of power on the house would make an impressive tale for any sweethearts to croon over and would take care of the problem.

Then everything happened at once.

The first thing Hugh noticed was the smell of fire, just before the flaming arrows streaked at the Craft shop behind him.

*Attention all crew,* Tom called out on a common thread; *The landen have turned against the Blood, prepare to fight, they are out for blood.*

From the back to the shop, Andrea cried out, and Hugh felt Quincy rise to the killing edge.

*She's hurt,* the Bryt Warlord snarled on a spear thread.

Hugh and Bishop rose to the killing edge in response. Blood males could handle threats against their own lives with only getting a rise out of their tempers, but an attack on a female sent them straight to the killing field, no matter her caste.

The lives of the attacking landens were now forfeit.

Hugh sent three successive, Craft-laced burst of power in the directions of the remaining archers. The shadowy lives he sensed there were snuffed out in a heartbeat. Then he plowed through the shop that was beginning to catch flame to Andrea. There was no time to fight the flames, the store was lost.

Officer Bishop stayed to guard the front and finish off any remaining landen in the vicinity. As they weren't Blood, tracking them down psychically wasn't easy, but the young man had been trained to do such a task and would get the job done. Hugh made it to the back, to see Quincy holding his own against a small squad of landen fighters. Andrea was tucked away in a corner, well-shielded and focused on her injury. Hugh stepped onto the killing field and joined Quincy in fighting the landens. They took out the ground forces first, then focused on the archers trying to pin the down. Bishop came around from the opposite direction, finishing off a few of the landen men who tried to flee when they realized they were on the losing end of this battle.

In a matter of minutes, the Hugh's team had killed all the landens and turned their possessive, protective tempers on the witch in their care.

*I need the Healer in Gitmo for Andrea, now!* Hugh snapped across a thread to the _Nathan James_.

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Danny was gritting his teeth when his team finally reached the village closest to the Territory Queen's Residence. He'd heard the warning from the Captain and could sense the fight Prince Jeter was in back in Gitmo, but he was duty bound to keep to his mission instead of help in the fight. Not that Prince Jeter and Officer Bishop were incompetent; Danny just didn't like being on the sidelines, of feeling like he was failing his Queen and his brothers-in-arms.

His kindred friend never had that problem. Halsey obeyed and did his duty with everything he had in him no matter the task, believing that all others would do the same. He was a faithful, reliable friend and male. Most days Danny found his friend's dedication entertaining and even humbling, others days he found it aggravating. Today, it was bordering on grating.

*This way, Danny, the rabbit food is this way,* Halsey declared, very pleased with himself as he trotted through the abandoned village.

"Rabbit food? Doesn't Lord Halsey know we're looking for medicinal herbs?" Cossetti asked.

"Oh he knows, he just likes to call human things in animal terms," Danny muttered back.

Danny took point, following after Halsey, while Cossetti and Lance guarded his six. They were lucky a second Healer lived so close to the Queen's Residence and had been on record. They'd been able to plan this approach as a backup in case the residence hadn't had all the plants they needed. It would have been simpler to have just come straight to this little village, rather than make the trek into the Queen's Residence. They'd created the plan they did not only to verify the state of the Territory Court, but because the Territory Queen would've had a Black Widow in her court and those witches were otherwise near impossible to track down. Lady Scott was lucky the landens had only destroyed the Healer's gardens at the residence, but then they probably hadn't realized there was a Black Widow garden on the property.

*I smell humans,* Halsey warned, coming to a stop.

Danny felt himself rising to the killing edge, his temper already frayed with what was happening elsewhere on the island.

*Where is the Healer's garden?* he asked putting duty first, Halsey pointed to the house directly in front of them; *And where are the humans?*

Halsey again pointed to the house in front of them. Calling in his blade, Danny wrapped a sight-shield around his body and signaled for Cossetti and Lance to wait. He stalked around the house, Halsey on his heels, also sight-shielded. They came around the building to see two lanky, landen youths playing a game of cards on the ground next to the guarded.

Danny took a step forward, seeing only the enemy, not boys. Two bursts of power were all it would take to extinguish the feeble minds contained in landen flesh. Then he and his team would be safe to complete their mission and there would be two less dangers to the Blood on the island. Halsey sensed his intentions and threw a Purple Dusk shield in his path. The shield wasn't an obstacle for a Green Jeweled Warlord like Danny, but Halsey nipping at his heels and threatening to bite higher made him stop. Jewel strength and the proper respect afforded to one's rank didn't mean anything when Sceltie teeth were involved.

*Rachel says enough people have died, we only kill if they attack first,* Halsey informed him; *They are just being dumb sheep, we must herd them away.*

*And if I don't want to herd them away?* Danny growled at Halsey, spear to spear.

*Then you are being a dumb sheep and I am to herd you away first, then the human puppies.*

Danny scowled at the Sceltie, knowing there was no point in arguing. Once the kindred dog set his mind on something, there was no getting around him. Besides the puppies comment had him feeling a little guilty.

Danny retreated from the fight, heading back around the house to Cossetti and Lance. When they were back on the _Nathan James_ though, he promised to have a talk with Halsey about his new found obedience and deference to the Brytol witch, there was something off about the dog's loyalty.

"Sir?" Cossetti asked as he pulled the men back several houses so they could talk.

"There are a couple of boys guarding the garden. We don't need to kill them, but we need to get them out of the way," he could see the other men wanted to argue and decided to spare them the confrontation with Halsey that would cause; "They're just boys. We would be no better than the landens if we killed children, understood?"

"Yessir," they responded, a little guilty too.

"All right then, here's my plan," Danny said and proceeded to outline what needed to be done.

Before he'd gone to the mountains to train as a warrior, Danny had grown up in a village not far from a landen settlement. His father had been a handyman who'd helped out Blood and landen alike, and there had been times Danny had accompanied his father when he went to work for the landens. As such Danny had had landen friends growing up and had learned quite a bit about what the landens thought of the Blood, just as the landens had learned what the Blood thought of the landens, and both parties had come away wiser because of it.

Under his guidance Cossetti, Lance, and even Halsey, who decided he wanted in on the fun, cast a few spells to change their appearances. Then Danny went over their parts with them once more, and then they were ready to roll.

Sight-shielded Danny approached the garden again, this time without his war blade in hand. When he was only a few paces away from the landen boys, who were still engrossed in their game of cards and doing a terrible job guarding, he stopped.

"Have you come with the offering?" Danny moaned, making his voice rasp and echo with a little bit of Craft.

The boys jumped up, scrambling for their spears and bows. The way they trembled was almost comical, if not for the threat they posed to him and his team.

"Who, who's there?" the taller of the two boys spit out.

"The offering," Danny moaned again, shifting a little closer to the older, slightly braver boy; "Where is the blood offering for the dead?"

The boys squeaked and moved away from Danny's voice. The one with the spear swung in wildly about in Danny's direct and he plucked it from the boy's had rather than risk getting hit, then he tossed it away from the boys, further scaring them.

Then the rattling began, as if someone in chains was approaching from around the house. The boys edged towards the forest on the other side of the house. The older boy tried to draw his bow, but was trembling too much to do so properly. Then Cossetti and Lance came around the house, their skin bleached white, ugly slashes on their chests and faces and necks. Through Craft they wore the red blotches and rashes of the plague victims, blood streaming from eyes, ears, and mouths. To top it all off, their eyes were dark red, eyes of the demon-dead according to the landen boys Danny had known until he'd taught them otherwise.

The landen boys were quaking, trying to scramble backwards, but unwilling to turn their backs on the nightmares approaching them.

"Blood," Danny moaned again as he felt Halsey brush up against his legs.

With a nudge of Craft, the older boy dropped his bow. Then Halsey appeared before the boys, fur matted in blood and eyes blood red, a demon-dead dog, and he growled. With terrified yelps the boys turned and ran into the trees, Halsey chasing them for a bit, weaponless and too petrified to return any time soon.

Danny and the men had a short laugh at the boys' expense. Playing a trick certainly was more pleasant than stepping onto the killing field.

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Rachel had retired to her room onboard the _Nathan James_ once the retrieval teams had set out. She'd promised Quincy and Halsey that she would rest while they were gone, but she doubted they would've called what she did resting. But since they weren't there to fuss, Rachel tinkered with spells as she wished in the privacy of her workroom. Trapped on a ship at sea, there was nothing else for her to do to calm her nerves and it was relaxing in its own way, even if it wasn't restful.

When Halsey had contacted her and shown her the clearing, asking what was wrong, Rachel had given up the pretense. She'd made her way to the bridge, trying to think up an excuse for her presence before she arrived. She'd never needed an excuse to get into the thick of the action before and had a feeling her arguments would have been weak even to a child's ears.

Luckily, no one had said a thing when she'd slipped onto the bridge. The crew on duty accepted her presence without the blink of an eye. Alisha Granderson had given her a smile and Prince Slattery had nodded at her, but no one asked her to leave.

She kept to the shadows, keeping an eye on the uses of Jewel power from the depths of her Gray. When Prince Chandler had thrown up shields that drained much too quickly, Rachel had investigated with a gentle psychic touch. She'd been shocked by the presence of the other Warlord Prince, barely able to feel him, but aware that he and all the other males could sense her. She'd sensed that the Warlord Smith and the unknown Warlord Prince were in need of a Healer and gave Kara Foster a quick forewarning before Prince Chandler contacted Prince Slattery.

"Barker, find Rios, the two of you are going to escort Healer Foster to Tanamo," Mike barked out once he'd finished his conversation with Tom; "Smith has been badly hurt and there's a drained Warlord Prince in need of assistance."

"Aye sir," Barker replied and hurried out of sight.

Mike sent orders down to the deck for the fourth skiff to be prepped for departure, Kara needing only a few more minutes thanks to Rachel's early warning. Then Rachel felt Quincy come under attack, felt his entire team come under attack. She honed in on her escort and felt him rise to the killing edge and knew the reason why. Though the distance drained far more than she cared to admit, Rachel tossed up Gray-strength shields around Quincy, Lady Andrea, Prince Hugh, and Officer Bishop, with only Quincy aware of her actions.

*It's over,* Quincy snapped at her once he stepped back from the killing edge and Rachel dropped her shields and withdrew before he could start growling at her.

When Prince Hugh called for the Healer to attend Andrea, Rachel was ready. Lady Andrea's leg injury was bad, but Lord Smith's wound was far more grievous. None the less, the males would pick Andrea's safety over Smith's, for in their minds a male was the expendable one, and Smith wouldn't survive the wait for Kara to get to him second. Well Rachel refused to let that happen:

"I'll go to treat Lord Smith," she said before Prince Mike could make the decision she knew he was going to make.

"No," Mike responded immediately.

"I have the training Prince, and Lord Smith won't survive otherwise," Rachel tried to reason with him.

"Respectfully, my answer remains the same Lady."

Rachel gave him points for sticking with the line he'd drawn while she was frowning at him with the look that cowered lesser men. However he wasn't the Captain of the ship, nor her escort, nor a yapping, nosy Sceltie, and she outranked him. She wasn't taking no for an answer, not with a good man's life at stake.

"Enough people have died Prince Slattery; I will not stand by and let another be lost, not when I can do something about it. While I respect your concern for my well-being, I am going regardless, but I will consent to however many escorts you feel are appropriate."

She gave him the only compromise she was willing to make and squared off to see what he would do. Prince Mike considered her for several minutes, came to the conclusion he couldn't win, and agreed then to the compromise with only a tic of his cheek betraying his displeasure.

"I'm glad we agree," Rachel said to his silence with a twitch of a grin; "Tell Kara and the escorts to just meet me on deck, I can catch the Gray Winds from here and speed if of the essence at the moment."

Then she left before he could try and argue with her about that change in the plans.


	8. Welcome to Tanamo Pt 4

Disclaimer: Bibbity bobbity boo, I do not owe you (points to TNT's _The Last Ship_) nor you (swings around to pick up Anne Bishop's _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy). But one day, I will own the first season of _The Last Ship_, come on Christmas.

**A/N**: Thanks so much for all the reviews, they make my day, and I hope my story continues to live up to your expectations. Sadly Tex doesn't feature much in the next few chapters, his character just didn't have much to offer in the rewrite of the next episode or this one.

Chapter Eight

*Andrea's been hurt,* Mike contacted Tom with an update; *Foster is going to help her. The witchling is on her way to look after Smith and your new guest.*

Tom felt his hackles rise at that. A war zone was not the place to send in the one woman who could save the world. The decision had Rachel all over it, Mike knew better. Tom didn't want her near Warlord Prince Tex, as the man had called himself, until he'd gotten a better sense of the man, but that was more out of his territorial Warlord Prince instincts than from danger.

In the end the decision had already been made and Tom was in no position to argue about it, or better yet haul the problematic witch off to her room and lock her in. He'd deal with Rachel and her recklessness later. Once he'd had a talk with Mike about the grudging respect and accepted annoyance he'd also picked up on through the psychic thread.

*Jeter, Green, report,* Tom called on two separate spear threads.

At this point any nearby pirates would already have their positions anyway; there was no use in keeping silent any longer. Besides the landens were the biggest threat at the moment, if any pirates did show up, Tom would deal with them then.

*Gitmo is secure and Lady Foster is treating Lady Garnett as we speak,* Hugh responded promptly, then headed off Tom's next question; *They rode the Winds to get here this quick.*

Tom confirmed that he'd heard and ordered Hugh's team back to the ship. What they'd managed to gather so far was all they were going to get. He added the Winds to his list of things to discuss with Rachel, because he just knew that had been her idea as well.

*We've found the village Healer's garden,* Danny called in second later; *Had to deal with a small distraction, but we're all well and will be on our way in a few minutes,* a trace of humor sparked across the thread.

*Lady Scott is on land, send Halsey to her,* Tom decided after a second-long debate, the Sceltie would keep the stubborn witch in line in ways Tom couldn't.

*Aye sir.*

After severing the last thread, Tom nodded to Burk and they continued on their way to the treasury, senses on alert. It was just the two of them now; Warlord Smith had been in no condition to walk himself back to the skiff and Prince Tex not much better. Tom had had to send Miller back with them if they were to make it in one piece; unfortunately it made his and Burk's job all the more harder.

The marsh was filled with soft sounds, none human besides the two men. They had to watch where they placed their feet, walking on shields when the ground looked too soft. They conserved as much energy as they could, back-tracking when an easier way around the foot-sucking mud was available. With only the two of them left though, they were wasting more Jewel strength than they could spare.

Twice they stopped to check their position and determine the correct path they needed to take. They didn't encounter any more traps or people. They did come across the remains of a campsite and the three butchered bodies that Prince Tex had mentioned were the last of his men. The landen were suspiciously absent on the journey, a fact for which Tom thanked and cursed the mercy of the Darkness.

Finally they reached the treasury, a motley collection of interconnected buildings, guarded by a fence and shields. A touch of Jewel power was all Tom and Burk needed to apply to be let into the shields. Once inside Tom preformed the spell to test the first three buildings for the plague. Only when all came back clean did he and Burk lower their shields and breathe a little easier.

"How do you want to do this Captain?"

"Let's take a look inside, see what we've got, and then take what we need first. If we've got any room after that we'll grab extras," Tom replied, pulling out the list he'd been given.

The first building housed the meats, cured and smoked; steaks, strips, and even whole carcasses waiting to be gutted. As meat was quick to spoil, it was a luxury they didn't have room for despite the protein benefits for the dark Jeweled Blood who burned off body fat faster the more they used their power.

In the second building they found the canned vegetables; carrots, peas, green beans, corn, squash, zucchini, and many mainland staples along with island specials. The next building brought them to the starches, grains, and seasonings. They found plenty of the wheat flour, cornstarch, and salt the cooks had underlined on the list.

Tom was calculating out the most efficient plan for removal as they cleared the building housing the canned fruit and headed for the next building only to discover a pleasant surprise. They found a coach, one of the boxes made to ferry passengers on the Winds, and it was of good size. Now things were finally looking up for the _Nathan James_.

As all the food in the treasury was either kept in spelled preservation boxes or canned, they were easy to stack into tight spaces. There were some crates for transport that would help clear up more space for them in the coach. He and Burk could pack as much food as they could into the available crates and squeeze three times the haul he'd originally hopes to get into the coach.

They'd be able to get all the supplies the _Nathan James_ needed and add in some of the amenities that he hadn't hoped to get beforehand, like steaks. Best of all, with the coach on hand they wouldn't have to waste as much Jewel strength in transport nor compromise their ability to fight by carrying more in their vanishing spaces than comfortable.

As they opened the door to the final building, where the dairy products and indulgences like sweets and coffee were kept, Tom laid out his plan to the Prince. Burk had a few suggestions to make on better utilizing the space of the crates and the coach which Tom incorporated into the plan, and then the two men got to work.

"You, if we're lucky there will be some chocolate in this mess and we'll be able to take some back for the ladies," Burk comment as they were trying to decipher the account books so that they didn't have to look inside every box and check the contents.

"This may have been the Queen's treasury, but her males would've seen to the keep. You can rest assured they stashed away chocolate here boyo," Tom replied, no man who lived full-time with females would forget such an important peace-making gift; "And we will certainly be taking off with all of it."

"This key had to have been written by a woman," Burk grumbled a few minutes later, an assessment Tom agreed with wholeheartedly, though he said nothing.

They'd finally found the flour bags and had filled five crates full. Now they were back trying to figure out which tag meant salt and which meant sugar. A simple mark system or color-coding would've been sufficient, but instead they had to contend with elaborate symbols that gave no hint as to what they signified. Neither of them was going to suggest asking of a woman's help though, they both knew how further confusing the discussion that would follow would be. Asking a woman to explain women was like trying to play a game of chess with a woman, the two genders just couldn't understand the logic of the others, a lesson all Blood learned, eventually.

Then Tom heard the sound of a body falling. When Burk went to speak, Tom shushed him, sinking to the depths of his Birthright Opal. He sent out a few tendrils of power, just outside the shields around the treasury. He was unsurprised when he felt no answering Jewel strength and sensed instead the shadowy thoughts of landens.

So they'd finally come to finish the job.

Tom rose to the killing edge, calling his war blade, as he stalked towards the nearest door. Burk followed in the subordinate position, also riding the killing edge, weapon in hand.

They stepped outside the treasury building, but well within the shields. The sight of a small army of landen males armed to the teeth greeted them. Vastly outnumbered, it would be a hard battle to win drained as he and Burk were. Tom considered the killing field before him with the arrogance of his caste and the experience of his years. He plotted out the best plan of attack to see him and his shipman safely home; dying was not an option for either of them.

To protect the supplies, they'd have to step outside the shields. The landens would be on them immediately, so they'd have to act fast. If they took out a large number of landen in one burst, then followed that up with several successions of less quantity, but more brutal killings, they'd stand the best chance. The landens would have to regroup and be terrified by the violent display of power – or at least they had been in the past. Then it would simply be a matter of wading their way through the remaining suicidal idiots, leaving only death in their wake.

Only on his darkest days and coldest furies did Tom enjoy laying waste to his enemies. He didn't care much about the landen one way or another most days, they were too foreign to him as a dark Jeweled Blood male and hard to relate to. But even he didn't relish the idea of slaughtering them, despite all they'd done to the Blood of Tanamo. In the end this battle came down to a simple truth.

It was either him or them, and it certainly wasn't going to be him who died today.

A plan made, Tom sent out a psychic thread to Burk with instructions. They trotted towards the shields, readying themselves. The landens pulled back for the shields, blocking them and repositioning, ready fight and die. A second thread message to Mike had the _Nathan James_ honing in their location, a blast torpedo ready to launch at the rear of the landen forces. Tom waited until the attention of the landen army was all on him, raising his war blade high, on the edge of the treasury shields.

*Now,* he lowered his arm and the _Nathan James_ fired.

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A more humorous part of Rachel wondered who was more shocked, the landen or the Captain, when her shields snapped up to protect the non-Blood from the missile. The males on her tail certainly didn't see any humor in the situation as she led them towards the impressive gathering of landen forces.

Her shields held firm as the torpedo, if she remembered correctly, exploded against it. The spells within sucked at her strength and tried to force their way through, but were no match for her Gray reservoir. She wasn't surprised; in the months she'd been on the _Nathan James_ she'd learned plenty about Amerik naval strategy. The Amerikans generally only equipped their warships with weapons capable of taking on the most powerful Blood on board. As such Sapphire was the darkest rank the _Nathan James_ was able to fight at, unless the Captain was willing to teach her the spells required.

At the moment, the _Nathan_ _James_'s weaker fire power was to her advantage as she marched into the fray. For despite her humorous stray thought, Rachel was pissed. Hot, bubbling anger scoured her veins, not the cold fury of the killing edge, at least not yet. Whether her anger stayed hot or turned cold depended on the bloody-brained, dimwitted males before her, landen and Blood alike.

"Stay where you are!" Rachel snapped, using Craft to enhance her voice when Prince Chandler spotted her and made to move to her, mowing down any landen in his way.

As the entire landen army stood between them that certainly wouldn't do. Rachel knew the Blood males were all riding the killing edge and she had to calm them before anyone was killed today. To calm the volatile males when she was just a Black Widow though required, at the least, physical touch, to help them leash their tempers.

The torpedo was spent, no longer a danger to the landen. Rachel released those shields and tossed up Gray ones around her person instead; then she started forward to plow her way through the landen men if she had to. Finally aware of her presence and that of her escorts, the landen males nearest her turned towards her, clutching at their weapons, but not attacking.

The Warlord Miller surged forward, blade in hand. Rachel caught him by his shoulder and pulled him back.

"Stay with me and don't attack," she ordered him.

He waged a war against his instincts to protect and his desire to obey. In the end her Jewel strength won out and he relented, trapped behind the Sapphire shields she'd put in his way to protect and contain him.

"Halsey, I said no," she snapped at the Sceltie who moved to engage a few overconfident landen.

The dog's ears lay flat on his head and he bowed to her, tail hanging low. The approaching landen males landed on their backsides when she hammered a chord of power against the back of their knees like a sweeping leg. Then she marched forward to the treasury and the angry males she was keeping pinned in there.

It only took three wasted arrows, a spear thrower nearly impaled by his recently thrown weapon, and half a dozen men swept out of the way like leaves before the landen caught on. Since she wasn't killing them and they couldn't make a dent on her shields, they decided to let her through to her goal – her growling and snapping at them like she did the Blood males certainly helped. For the few who didn't get the message, there were Halsey's teeth to clear up any lingering ideas.

Rachel knew all the males were angry with her, but could do nothing to stop her since she outranked them all in Jewels. Well that was just fine, they could yell at her all they liked, but she wasn't going to let the killing continue. Enough people were already dying because of the plague; she couldn't handle there being anymore when she could stop it, as she'd told Prince Slattery on the bridge.

The landen were people, even if they weren't Blood, and as such they answered to the Queens and the justice of the Queens. It was not the men's place to decide the fate of these landens, no matter what atrocities they'd committed, and the Blood males needed to be reminded of that. More than that, Rachel didn't want the men stepping onto the killing field because they were grossly outnumbered. The Blood would win in the end, but not all of them would walk away, and Rachel refused to let that happen. The males would understand that she was right on both accounts, once she calmed them down.

She was thankful she'd left the two escorts Slattery had originally picked out for her looking after her patients. Warlord Smith had been treated sufficiently to get him to the _Nathan James_ without fear of dying while the new Warlord Prince had had to be settled and put into a soothing stupor so that he could get the rest he needed, and both needed help to get to the skiff. As she'd sent her first two escorts on with their new charges, she'd order Miller and Halsey to accompany her to the Captain, figuring they'd be easier to deal with in the heat of the moment.

They'd chafed under the command, but obliged, realizing she wasn't in a mood to be argued with. Of course if they'd known they'd be walking into a standoff with a landen army both males would have objected and hauled her off to the skiff themselves, and Protocol would've allowed it. As such Rachel had neglected to mention the situation she could sense brewing and led the males onward. Now her escorts were thrice mad at her and riding the killing edge, but talking them down would still be easier than getting Warlord Prince Chandler settled. Still Rachel had to try.

She allowed Halsey to take point as they swept through the landen forces while Miller guarded the rear, the illusion of protection they offered that way helped them feel better she knew. The moment they made it to the shields at the treasury, she let Prince Chandler pull her through without objection, though his hand gripped her tight enough to bruise. All four males put themselves between her, the shields, and the landens beyond. Rachel kept her frustrated sigh inside as Tom turned one eye on her, the other on the enemy.

"Hell's Fire woman, what do you think you are doing?!" he snarled at her, still riding the killing edge.

"My duty Prince," Rachel answered, reaching out and placing a hand on his arm; "Now it is time for you to do yours, Captain; step back from the killing edge. Let me talk to these people so that we can come to a peaceful conclusion."

"They killed Blood," Tom snapped, defying the call to Protocol.

"I know; I'd like to know why."

"They killed witches in the streets and children."

"I know that Prince," Rachel snapped, her own temper still short; "They may not need a Queen as much as you do, but they still need one none the less. They are under our care; we cannot slaughter them without first knowing why. Now step down Prince."

Prince Chandler bared his teeth at her, but finally listened. The other males, as she'd known they would, took their cues from him and stepped away from the killing field as well.

"I would speak with your leader," Rachel called out, pushing the wall of muscle in front of her apart just enough so that she could see those she addressed.

The landen males shifted uneasily, muttering, but no one came forward and their weapons stayed trained on the Blood.

"One of you is going to tell my why you're attacking the Blood or I'm going to let these men finish what you started," Rachel barked out; "Now."

A middle-aged man with a growing bald patch stepped up to the line, an axe in his hands. He walked up to the shields, his lips in a thin, angry line. Two of his compatriots flanked him, carrying spears. The Blood males shifted a little to better protect Rachel.

"We only culled them Blood who was sick and didn't go away like the Queens ordered, to stop the sickness from killing us too," the spokesman cried and spat on the ground.

The landen forces yelled out their encouragement, growing more confident and aggressive. Then the air cooled around them dramatically and the landens quieted in the face of a furious, dark Jeweled witch.

"You killed them because they were sick and already dying," Rachel repeated coldly, trying to remind herself that the full story was needed before punishment was decided; "You murdered women and children who were at your mercy, all because you were afraid of a plague that CANNOT HURT YOU!"

"Lies!" the spokesman yelled back at Rachel; "Two youngsters in a village near mine contracted that sickness, would've spread it to the rest of us if the headman hadn't acted quickly and dealt with them."

Frost coated the trees and every breath became visible as Rachel regretted sparing the landens from a fight with Prince Chandler and his men. The puffed up leader deflated and tried to step back, to hide among his conspirators. However Rachel's icy glare kept him in place. She was filled with a cold hatred for these landen, but she wouldn't let it rule her sense of justice.

"The plague only kills the Blood," she repeated at her iciest; "If children among your kind were infected, then they had our blood running through their veins. They would've been half-Bloods or weaker which put them at risk, but the rest of the landen cannot be affected by this disease."

"Maybe they were, maybe they weren't," a new voice yelled from somewhere in the crowd; "Either way your kind aren't welcome here anymore. This is our land now and we'll do as we please."

Majority of the landen army voiced their agreement, swelling forward until they reached the shields. Tom and the men brought up their weapons to fight until Rachel stepped in front of them.

"We will be more than happy to leave you alone once we gather the supplies we came for," Rachel called out above the crowd, her tone final; "In fact when we return to the mainland, I will tell the Territory Queens what happened here and suggest that all the landen of Tanamo be left alone from here on. Since you think yourselves so powerful and self-sufficient, let us see how you survive without any Blood to rule over you. Let us see how your harvests fare without the Queen's Gift to the land each spring. Let us see how your houses survive the summer hurricanes and tropical storms without the Blood to shield them. Let us see how well your people fight to defend themselves against the pirates without the Blood to protect them."

"You can't do that!" a scared voice shouted from the back of the landen crowd.

"We are Blood," Rachel answered; "There is a price to be paid for killing one of us and the blood of hundreds is on your hands. If you will not accept the rule and punishment of a Queen, then you will live without all the Blood have to offer as well."

"An' what if **you** don't make it off the island?" another man suggested harshly.

"Then none of you will live to see the evening," Tom growled.

"Accept the price you must pay and leave, you won't get any better if a tribunal is called here instead," Rachel informed them; "Leave us in peace until we are gone and take your chances on your own, otherwise death will come for you sooner. Now, be gone."

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Eventually the land militia did disperse without anyone dying. It only took Tom neatly slicing through the handle of the ring leader's axe and Halsey yanking the archers out of their perches with Craft to get them moving. Tom kept the men in formation until the last of the landen stragglers was out of sight – keeping Rachel in one place to guard her was difficult until Halsey threatened to nip her. Only when Danny and the rest of his team dropped their sight-shields and confirmed the landen army was going in separate directions did Tom relax a fraction.

"Green, you and Halsey are to escort Lady Scott back to the _Nathan James_ immediately," Tom ground out and Rachel had the good sense not to argue for once, though she didn't go meekly; "The rest of you, help pack up the coach, we're going for a fast retreat."

Though he didn't particularly want to admit defeat, Tom contacted Alisha on the bridge to get her help translating the account books' key. Respectful of male ego, Alisha made no comments and figured out the symbols in a matter of minutes without giving any explanations, then left the men to their work. Humbled and irritated, though he didn't let either show, Tom split up his remaining four men into teams of two and sent them to collect one half of the list plus extras. He patrolled the treasury grounds in case any of the landens thought to return.

In under an hour the coach was packed and each of the men had vanished three extra crates of supplies. Miller and Cossetti worked together to levitate the coach until they reached a point where Burk could access the Opal Winds. While Burk guided the coach, Tom followed carrying the other three men in a shield. They landed along the outskirts of Prisan.

"Burk, stay where you are. Cossetti, you're in charge of getting the skiff back to the _Nathan James_. Miller and Lance will accompany you. Miller, you show them the way through the shields."

"What are we doing sir?" Burk asked tiredly as the other three left.

"We're catching the Opal Winds out to the _Nathan James_," Tom explained as he joined Burk on the two-person driver's bench; "I'll lead, you keep an eye on the tether lines okay?"

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The coach landed on the deck of the _Nathan James_ with a loud thunk, but otherwise everything went smoothly and nothing broke. Tom left Burk in charge of contacting the kitchen to tell them the good news and organize the transfer of cargo. He'd figure out what to do about the _Nathan James_'s newly acquired coach later.

A thread to Hugh and Danny confirmed both escorts had returned to the ship, teams and packages intact. A message to Mike had the _Nathan James_ preparing to raise anchor and get under way as soon as the last skiff arrived. Then he tracked down the Brytol witch to her work room.

"From here on you don't leave this ship without out my permission, is that understood Lady?" Tom began the latest verbal match as soon as he stepped through the door.

"You have no right, Prince," Rachel sputtered out, pausing in her organization of her new supplies.

"I have every right," Tom restrained himself from bellowing; "You are the Blood's only hope against this plague. That means your life is worth more than one man's and far too precious to risk in a confrontation with rebellious landen."

"That's not true," Rachel interjected.

"No Rachel," Quincy spoke up, tired but determined; "Prince Chandler is right. You're worth more than a dozen Warlord Princes or any Blood, whether you admit it or not. You can't keep taking risks like today."

"Queen Debra entrusted me with your protection on this mission," Tom found an argument based on Protocol that Rachel couldn't debate; "That gives me a say in your life until it is over, which includes keeping you safe from yourself. Until I say otherwise, you are ship-locked, is that clear?"

"Very well, Prince Chandler," Rachel bowed her head with the proper amount of submission; "For now."

Tom took the win and started to leave. The skiff should've been close now and he wanted to be on the bridge when they left Tanamo Island. One last thought had him pausing at the door.

"That was an interesting bluff you called back there. What would you've done if they hadn't bought it?"

"What bluff Captain?" Rachel asked, truly puzzled.

"The punishment you declared would be the Tanamoans when we got home," Tom clarified and Quincy groaned.

"That wasn't a bluff," Rachel replied with a glare to Quincy; "I know many Queens who would find such a punishment fitting, Lady Debra included. Convincing them to support it will not be very hard when we return home."

Before Tom could formulate a reply, he felt Mike tapping stressfully at him with a psychic thread. He answered and Mike said:

*Tom, we've got a problem. Ruskans.*


	9. Debts Owed Pt 1

Disclaimer: See previous chapters for witty - or not so witty - comments about who owns _The Last Ship_ and _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy. Obviously, I do not. They are owned respectively by TNT and Anne Bishop. I do however now own a copy of Anne Bishop's _The Invisible Ring_, prequel to the Black Jewels Trilogy which was the last book in the series I needed. So yippie for me!

Chapter Nine

Crewmen and women practically jumped out of Tom's way as he charged towards the bridge. Rachel and Quincy followed after him, no doubt curious as to what had made the Captain curse and storm of out the room as if Hell Hounds were on his heels.

Ruskans! Of course it had to be Ruskans. Just as they solved one problem and were ready to continue on their mission, muck-sucking pirates showed up.

Tom had known there was a possibility of a pirate ship being in the vicinity and picking up on their earlier thread chatter. He'd just expected them to arrive sooner than this and had made the mistake of hoping the _Nathan James_ was in the clear.

Now he knew better. Soon these pirates would too.

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Mike stifled a growl as he peered through his binoculars at the Ruskan battleship blocking the channel out of Tanamo Bay. Already the enemy was laying down spell mines across the water way and there was nothing neither he nor anybody on the _Nathan James_ could do about it. The Ruskans – who were not pirates – were too far out of range, any offensive actions they took now would be comically repelled. Softly Mike cursed every Ruskan on board and the cowards who sired them.

Spell mines were far worse than the specialized spell nets deployed to trap a ship. Spell nets burned out after a few hours or days, spell mines were designed to last years unless deactivated by a carefully attuned key. Not only that, but spell mines were more sensitive and deadly than the average spell net. As such spell mines weren't often used, usually in wartime which was equally rare. Mike didn't like how these Ruskans were already playing hard ball.

"Sit rep," Tom demanded as he double-timed it onto the bridge; ignoring courtesy, Mike didn't turn to address him and instead kept his eyes on the enemy.

"We've got ourselves a Ruskan battleship, looking to be a Romanov-class, decade old, sitting in the mouth of the bay. Used some kind of sight-shield to sneak up on us," Mike reported, slightly impressed with the tactic; "No contact yet, but they've deployed mines across the channel. We're sitting duck at the moment sir."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Rachel asked.

Mike gave her credit for having the balls to make such a suggestion so soon after Tom had berated her for taking too many risks. If she'd been a dark Jeweled male, Tom would've used her in a heartbeat, regardless of the personal risks. But she was female and the sole hope for the Blood, not one male in the room wanted her anywhere near a battle, and neither did the other women.

It didn't help that they could see she was tired from everything thing she'd already done in the day and she was sea-sick pale, all of which had Mike wanting to growl at her to go lay down. Mike, like Tom, was beginning to recognize the stubborn glint in Rachel's eyes that meant she was ready for a fight, so he wisely let Tom handle the witchling.

Somehow Tom managed not to snarl or snap at the self-sacrificing witch and reasoned with her without gritting his teeth, as Mike would've done in his shoes.

"There is no need Lady Scott," when in doubt, use Protocol; "Those mines are usually made to be deadly to even Black Widows, so there is nothing you can do for us on the bridge at the moment. However I'm sure Healer Foster would be delighted to have your help in the infirmary."

"I agree Lady," Quincy's supported settled the matter; "Your talents would best be served in the infirmary. Prince Chandler and Prince Slattery will do all they must to keep us safe."

"Fine," Rachel huffed and muttered not-so-softly as she left; "Stubborn men."

Alisha Granderson snorted from her station at the wheel and refused to make eye contact with anyone. Mike resisted the urge to smirk; Tom would've if the Ruskan problem wasn't staring him in the face.

"_Vyerni_ to the Amerik vessel in Tanamo Bay, please respond," a Ruskan-accented male voice spoke up on the crackling radio system.

Tom and Mike shared a glance. This was an unusual tactic for communication. When facing off against an unknown enemy at sea, communicating by thread allowed one to get a better assessment of the opponent, in mentality and Jewel strength. Was calling on the radio a sign of weakness, caution, or a red herring?

There was no way to know for certain. Tom signaled Mason at the con stat on the bridge and then picked up the hand-held mic.

"This is Prince Thomas Chandler, Captain of the Amerik battleship, the _Nathan James_. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?"

"I am Prince Konstantin Ruskov, Admiral of the Ruska naval fleet and Captain of the battleship _Vyerni_," the man replied mildly.

"Hell's Fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful," Tom muttered before pressing down on the button to respond to Ruskov again; "Welcome to Tanamo Island Prince Ruskov. Is there a reason you've trapped my crew and me inside the bay?"

Silently, Mike agreed with Tom. They had terrible luck to be facing off against Konstantin Ruskov. The Red Jeweled Warlord Prince was well-known among all the Territories this side of the Milky Way. He was a part of the reason the strongest Territory Queens had balked at going to war with Ruska over their marauding ships. His skill and strategies in sea battles had given the Queens pause at hopes for a quick skirmish. Then the Queens had signed the peace treaty instead, declaring all raiding Ruskan ships as pirates and fair game to any Queen's justice, regardless of Territory. Now here the Prince was at Tanamo Island, taunting them to step onto a killing field against him.

"Now, now Captain," Ruskov spoke the title like an insult, "don't be coy. You know very well about the plague raging on the mainland and I know all about the cure you're after. Give me the Sapphire Black Widow and her plague samples and I will be happy to let you and your crew go free."

Mike twitched at the reminder of the plague samples – he and Tom had had a heated conversation over that particular danger this very morning when Mike learned about it. The implications of what Ruskov was saying was far more pressing than the crew now learning about the threat contained onboard the ship with them.

"These are dangerous times to be making demands," Tom retorted cool-headedly though his jaw was taunt; "My Queen assigned me to escort the Black Widow on her mission and I am not one to dismiss my Lady's commands lightly. How about we meet, face-to-face on the Island and discuss this situation peacefully. The Lady will stay onboard my ship until we are through to ensure her safety."

"Of course Captain Chandler, relay whatever coordinates you feel are appropriate. But make no mistake; I will have the Black Widow on my ship before the night is out."

The radio cut off and Tom tossed the mic back to Mason, quivering with rage. Mike gestured to Mejia to bring out the maps.

"Is the skiff in yet?" Tom asked.

"They're docking right now," Alisha responded after a check with the chief on deck.

"Good, tell them to get their supplies to the kitchen then report to their stations. Mejia, Granderson I want you studying the Tanamo charts while the landing party is gone. If there is any other way out of this bay, no matter how tiny, I want to know about it when I return."

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The infirmary on the _Nathan James_ felt rather undersized for a warship to Tex. Or perhaps it was just too full with three patients, a Healer, two standing guards, and two visiting Warlords, one of whom was a dog.

Tex understood the necessity of his guards, he even appreciated the fact both wore Jewels darker than his Purple Dusk, which would even up any fight, once he regained his strength. However he did wish the man in charge had told the overeager puppies that they didn't have to both be in the same room as him all the time.

As there was no chance of his guards easing up any time soon, Tex hoped that the Green Warlord and his furry brother would leave instead. Though the way the human Warlord watched Tex and stood protectively near the Healer told him he was wishing for rain in the middle of a desert.

Then all the other males in the room stiffed ever so slightly and shifted to better face the door. At first Tex thought they'd received some kind of psychic message that he was too weak to sense, but the ladies in the room didn't act any differently.

Then Tex picked up the psychic scent of a dark Jeweled female getting closer, though he had to strain to sense her. A moment later the lady entered the infirmary, the room got smaller, and the other women noticed her presence and that of her escort.

Tex recognized the witch who'd calmed him on the island and treated his worst wounds. Long brown hair pulled back into a loose braid, sharp brown eyes on a pretty face, and a complexion much too pale to be healthy. A delightful beauty, despite her obvious sea-sickness; one Tex wouldn't mind expressing interest in once he was better and could see where things would go. How unfortunate that he hadn't caught her name earlier.

"Lady Scott, can I help you?" the nice, but definitely taken, Healer Kara hurried over.

"I'm fine Kara and please call me Rachel," the beauty spoke with the Brytol accent Tex knew well; "Captain Chandler sent me here to see if I could be of assistance to you," the rueful smile on her face was at odds with the dangerous glint in her eyes.

"Has something happened?" the Green Jeweled Warlord asked, stepping away from his lover.

"Yes," Rachel answered stepping into the room, and Tex noted every male tracked her movements without conscious thought; "A Ruskan battleship has blocked our exit from Tanamo Island. I believe the Captain will be calling for you shortly Danny."

"Ruskans, pirates?" Lady Andrea, as she'd introduced herself, asked with a croak.

"Not from the looks it," Rachel responded as Danny heard from the Captain and left; "Fine you may stay and keep me company, but no fussing or nipping."

That last comment Rachel directed at the kindred dog, who promptly sat down and wagged his tail, tongue lolling.

"How is Warlord Smith?" Rachel asked moving towards the bed where the only unconscious patient lay.

The young Healer moved over with her, using medical terms and talk of healing spells Tex didn't recognize and couldn't follow. He toned out the chatter and focused on watching his rescuers instead, learning a lot about them in what they didn't say.

When the Bryt's escort suddenly paled with a faraway look in his eyes, Tex was the only one who noticed, besides the dog. The sandy-haired escort quickly mastered his dismayed expression.

"Rachel if you don't need me, the Captain could use me on the bridge," the also Brytol Warlord said after a cough.

"I think I am more than adequately looked after Quincy," Rachel replied with a look around the room at all the males; "Don't keep Prince Chandler waiting. I will be fine."

A gentle tease and dismissal, then Rachel turned away to continue her conversation with Lady Andrea. Tex kept his eyes on Quincy, who didn't look amused or displeased with Rachel's response; he looked more torn than anything else.

The kindred dog noticed it too, because he moved protectively closer to the women. Quincy noticed the furry Warlord's actions, nodded as if in approval, and then hastened away – on any other day Tex would've said he fled. If he had the strength and knew how, Tex would've asked the kindred animal what they would do about the Brytol male after his odd actions.

Stranger or not, short-term guest or new resident, Tex was a Warlord Prince and he would defend the Blood to his dying breath, from the Blood if need be. As soon as he got the chance, he'd voice his concerns about the Brytol Warlord to one of the other Warlord Princes onboard. If they didn't do anything, then Tex would; territorial issues meant squat to him when he smelled danger.

"You look pensive Prince, are you all right?" the pretty voice of Rachel asked him.

"I'm fit as a fiddle and pretty as a peach, darlin'," Tex drawled as she neared him.

He certainly wasn't going to tell her he suspected something was off with her compatriot. It was the males' right to deal with another problematic male before they brought him to the attention of the Queen if nothing changed. Besides, Rachel was a Black Widow who knew healing Craft, she wasn't a Queen; dealing with her escort would never be her problem.

"I'm Rachel Scott," she held out her hands, palm down.

Tex was a little surprised to be offered such a formal greeting. He was mindful of the poisonous snaketooth that sat under the nail of her ring finger on her right hand, as any respectful male would be when faced with a natural Black Widow, but he wasn't afraid of her. Those of the Hourglass Coven were known for making other Blood uncomfortable, yet this witch had a soothing effect on those around her that even Tex felt. So Tex returned the greeting, meeting her hands palms up and leaving his wrists open to an attack of the nails. But he pressed up a little more than he needed to, to remind her that as a Warlord Prince he was a law unto himself, to which Rachel bowed her head in acknowledgement.

Up this close, he got a good whiff of her full psychic scent and found himself confused. Her scent said she was a dark Jeweled female and a Black Widow, all of which he knew from the Sapphire Jewels she wore and the Hourglass pendent around her neck. However there was something more to her scent that he was missing, he could tell, but blamed it on exhaustion and a still weak reservoir of power.

"I'm Tex Nolan, Lady, and it is a pleasure to meet you," he responded with a wink, not missing a beat despite the distraction her scent posed.

Rachel laughed; a delightful sound. Everyone in the room smiled and the Warlord dog looked at Tex reproachfully, as if he didn't want _Tex_ making the lady laugh.

"You're in no condition to start that now Prince," Rachel tactfully refused his advance, but left the door open for his to express an interest at a later date.

"Well, a fellow's got to try."


	10. Debts Owed Pt 2

Disclaimer: Can't believe its November already, do you think if I asked Santa Claus for the rights to TNT's _The Last Ship_ for Christmas I'll get it? Nah, your right, I haven't been that good ; ) Also I don't own Anne Bishop's _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy, I just love the books.

Chapter Ten

Wary of a run in with the ungrateful and dangerous landen of Tanamo, Tom chose the tavern of a smaller village at the edge of the bay for the meeting with the Ruskans. The nearest landen town was hours away on foot. Any army foolish enough to come by water would be spotted long before they posed a threat.

There was no sign of a Ruskan skiff or dingy on the dock when Tom and his landing party reached shore. Still they proceeded with caution to the sole tavern in the dead village. As a unit of six they cleared their way through the village. Quincy was the weakest link of their party, but as Rachel's formal escort and her friend, he had the right to hear what the Ruskans wanted Rachel for face-to-face.

It wasn't much of surprise to Tom when he sensed other Blood males in the tavern as his team approached. If Konstantin Ruskov really was their leader then he would've found a less direct route to the village and come early to throw them off their game. It was a strategy he'd used before and Tom had heard some about it from the few survivors of the Ruskan Admiral. When they entered the tavern and found Ruskov sitting at a table, tankard of ale in hand, Tom wasn't shocked at all.

Recognizing Ruskov wasn't hard. Even if the man hadn't been wearing his Red Jewel proudly against his dress uniform, Tom had seen his picture before and knew his face. Besides the other male was a Warlord Prince whose very presence challenged Tom's temper, as the lower ranking male though, Tom leashed his emotions and his desire to fight. Overall he was disappointed to learn Ruskov wasn't a ruse as he'd been hoping.

As his men and Quincy spread out to cover their half of the room, Tom approached Ruskov in an unchallenging manner, giving respect to the man's rank, but he refused to sit. Looking up at Tom towering over him, Ruskov sighed, but didn't stand.

"Good day Captain Chandler," Ruskov slurred his title, yet talked as if they were having afternoon tea and Tom fought his natural response to deck the man, that was what Ruskov wanted; "As you can see, I am whom I claimed to be. Now will you hand the Black Widow over? No, I suppose not. Well then, sit, let us talk this out. Do tell me, why the shields? Surely you do not believe we will attack you?"

The Admiral said it jokingly and a few of his men laughed, but Tom and his men remained silent. When they stopped, Tom gave Ruskov a measured look and his most diplomatic smile.

"The shields are a precaution against the plague, Prince."

"Ah that, well you have no reason to fear, no one on my ship is infected," Ruskov said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Still we'll keep out shields just to be safe," Tom replied.

He certainly wasn't going to trust the Ruskans with his men's lives or the knowledge of Rachel's infection test. Besides if it did come to a fight, Ruskov had more than enough power to snap through all of their shields without breaking a sweat, but that didn't mean they'd give up so easily.

"Fine, fine do what you want. To business then. My ship has blocked yours from leaving the bay. I alone hold the key to the mines and will not let you out until the Black Widow and her research are in my care. What is more, if you should try to fight your way out, my ship is carrying eight tangled bombs and I will use one on you if I must. But I am a reasonable man, give me what I want and I will let you and your crew go free. Yes?"

Tom schooled his expression as Ruskov talked. He didn't want the other man to have any idea of what he was thinking. But Mother Night, tangled bombs, there was no way Ruskov didn't know Tom was chilled to the bone at the thought of one much less eight of them.

Tangled bombs were the most dangerous weapons known to the Blood besides Warlord Princes. One tangled bomb could destroy a whole city, had destroyed one decades ago, in a matter of seconds. Made up of thirteen intricately linked tangled webs, a tangled bomb ripped through any shields it encountered, no matter how dark they were.

When the bomb reached its target, ship or city, it deployed the webs as a net. Then everyone within vicinity of the webs was plunged into the Twisted Kingdom when they activated. Not even Black Widows could fight the pull into madness. They were the only ones though with a chance of finding their way out of the dark roads of the Twisted Kingdom that lived inside the Blood.

"I understand you clearly Prince, but I have a better idea," Tom responded swiftly and confidently, nothing betraying his inner turmoil; "Why don't were work together? This plague is a danger to all Blood, pooling our resources we'll be able to do more, find the cure faster, and save thousands of lives it the process."

"A pretty speech Captain Chandler," Ruskov sneered; "But I think not. I know how you Amerikans work, promising to be allies and share the burden and the rewards. Then when progress is made, you take all the credit and the cure, leaving Ruska to die while you save those whom you decide worthy. That will not happen this time, not at all. This time Ruska will be the victor and Amerik will come begging of us. Yes, that is how it will be. So these are your choices Captain, your only choices: Give me the witch and live or keep her and die."  
>"Prince Ruskov," Quincy stepped forward, a slight waver in his voice; "I am the Lady's escort, the Black Widow that you want. Take me instead of her. She has shown me all she knows in case anything should happen to her. I can help you find the cure, so take me, not her."<p>

It was a good bluff on Quincy's part, Tom thought. Unless it wasn't a bluff as Rachel's threat to the landen hadn't been. Either way it was a noble sacrifice on Rachel's behalf, her escort going beyond his duty to protect her from the Ruskans. It showed the caliber Quincy was made of, to defend Rachel the only way he had left. Too bad it was never going to work on Ruskov.

"A valiant offer that only a fool would accept. As I am many things, but not a fool, my answer remains the same. The witch before dawn or everyone on your ship will be dead before sunrise."

Then Ruskov rose, a short, unintimidating man without his Red Jewels and dangerous mind. With a signal to his men, they filed out of the tavern and headed for their hidden transport.

Tom waited until Ruskov was out of range before he snarled. One Warlord Prince to another he accepted the challenge to fight on the killing field. And even though he was no longer present, Ruskov knew it.

LS-BJ-LS-BJ-LS-BJ

The moment Tom returned to the _Nathan James_, Mike knew the meeting had been a bust and a fight was on the horizon. He'd expected as much. Whether or not they were really dealing with Warlord Prince Konstantin Ruskov didn't matter, though Mike would certainly ask later. Devising a fight plan where they could actually win was the trickier part that came first.

Trickier still would be making the plan with the meddling witchling on the bridge and under their noses.

"Did you have any luck finding another exit?" Tom asked, joining Mike in watching the Ruskans.

"There are several rivers that empty into the bay, but none that will get us out of here," Alisha reported.

"There is also a small channel the _Nathan James_ might fit through, but my depth charts say it's much too shallow," Mejia finished.

"Are we thinking of running?" Mike asked, irritated.

"Not a chance," Tom bit out; "But the mission comes first. The _Nathan James_ needs to survive to complete the mission and it needs an exit strategy. The fight will happen on the _Vyerni_."

"Prince Chandler, would you please explain to me why you are talking of fighting?" Rachel asked politely, as if her question wasn't at all out of place.

"He wants you, we're not giving you to him," Tom was terse, more important matters on his mind than another row with the Black Widow.

"And he is Konstantin Ruskov, a Warlord Prince even Queens' fear with good reason and he has tangled bombs. Tell me something I don't know Prince, like how you intended to fight and win when the enemy has the upper hand?"

She asked it with such authority, as if she wasn't going to allow Tom and those who fought besides him to die while the _Nathan James_ escaped. That was of course exactly what Tom was planning to do, Mike knew. Mike also didn't like how ostentatious the witchling was being, she was much too bossy for a Black Widow, Gray Jewels or not, and it was grating his nerves and Tom's too from the looks of it.

"We are not handing you over to the Ruskans."

"Good, because I don't want you to. I would like you to consider alternatives to the killing field where you die on a suicide mission though."

"Like what?"

As much as the witchling annoyed him at times, Mike had to admit watching her argue with Tom was very entertaining. Even in life and death situations, it was like watching a cat chase a mouse, and it was hard to tell who was who until the end.

"While there isn't near enough time for me create a tangled bomb, I am a Black Widow; subterfuge is a specialty of mine," Rachel left the implications resting in the air.

"Fine," Tom growled after a stare-down with Rachel; "I'll look into alternatives. First though, we need to look into that channel. Mason, call below decks, I want two divers in a submersible ASAP."

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The divers made it all the way out to the channel with no problems. On the bridge, Mike and Tom helped Mejia mark the depths as the team relayed the information back through the radio. Threads were too unsecure to use with the Ruskans so close, which left only the radios, so Rachel had added a Gray aural shield to them to be safe.

"Come again Officer Ramirez?" Tom asked when the divers were three-fourths of the way through.

"It looks like the Tanamoans were in the process of deepening the channel sir," Ramirez replied in the same disbelieving tone he'd used minutes before; "Once the _Nathan James_ clears that last reef, the depths deepen to nearly sixty feet or more and go on as far as we can see. We'll continue measuring, but it looks like the work goes all the way through to the mouth."

"That's good to hear. Keep up the good work," Tom answered, then released the mic.

"Why would the Tanamoans have been deepening their channel?" Mike wondered.

"That's a good question, I'll ask Prince Tex when I have time," Tom replied; "Now that we know there is a viable outlet, do you have any ideas for an exit strategy?"

The "ones that will please the Lady" was left unsaid, but Mike heard it clearly and so did Rachel, based on her tight expression.

"I have a few," Mike decided to remain curt.

Not fighting went against his and Tom's very nature, especially when an enemy was another Warlord Prince. But they couldn't exactly refuse when a Gray Jeweled witch was threatening to fight them every step of the way. She wasn't actually breaking Protocol, but bending it very cleverly and to refuse her would dishonor the Old Ways. Mike just wanted to understand why she cared so much.

An hour later, Tom and Mike were having a disagreement on a spear thread about one idea of Tom's. The divers were on their way back to the _Nathan James_, mission complete, having determined the channel had been excavated the rest of the way to the mouth of the sea. Rachel was watching the Warlord Princes as if she knew exactly what they were arguing about and found it amusing, but didn't want to give that away.

"Mayday, mayday," the radio crackled to life, Ramirez panicking; "We're under fire!"

"What is your location, Team Bravo?" Mason radioed back.

All the line picked up was static.

"What was their last location?" Tom demanded and Mejia rattled off the coordinates.

They were too late. Mike felt it when he reached out along with Tom to offer his strength to the divers. The enemy had already drained their Jewels and burned their minds. Far below him on the Green, Mike could feel power rising, the dark of the Gray.

"Lady no," Tom ordered Rachel who looked at him in surprise; "Let me handle this."

A pause, a choice, and then a nod of consent; the power disappeared and Tom took charge.

"Ready a torpedo, I'll paint the target, fire on my command."

Journeyman Barker, their operations specialist on the bridge, relayed the command to munitions and psychically took charge of the torpedo.

"Paint it red," Tom called out seconds later.

Mike heard and sensed it as the Summer-sky laced torpedo of Sapphire strength launched from the _Nathan James_. Farther out, near where their men floated dead, Mike felt another set of minds cave under Tom's onslaught. Mike added his own fury to the mix when it came time to finish the kill.

"Captain Chandler," Ruskov boomed over the radio on the unsecure line; "Why have you attacked my men? Do you want to begin this fight already?"

"Your men paid the price for killing my men unprovoked," Tom snapped back.

"My men were under order to fire if they saw an escape attempt being made," Ruskov fought to return to a more neutral tone; "Were your men trying to find another exit Captain? I certainly hope not, because that simply will not do. I didn't think you would be so foolish as to search for escape. As you have seen, any endeavors to flee your ship or explore for exits will be met with death, this is your final warning."

"Will you at least allow me to collect my men's bodies?" Tom asked, he owed to the men and he didn't want Ruskov to suspect they'd been coming back from a mission instead of setting out on one.

"Fine, but you will be closely watched, any tricks and your lives are forfeit," Ruskov cut the line after his last warning.

"Mike, ready a retrieval team," Tom then turned to Rachel; "Lady, please go rest while we finalize our plans. I'll give you the details for your part later."

"As you wish, Prince."

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"Quincy what are you doing?" Rachel asked as she entered the workroom she was borrowing on the _Nathan James_.

Almost guiltily, Quincy shut the lid of the trunk that held the heavily spelled, enclosed samples of the plague. The samples she would need to test her healing brews on to find the right potency for a cure.

"I thought I'd check the spells for you, one less thing for you to worry about while crafting the supplies the Captain asks for," and then Quincy narrowed his eyes, which always signaled he was about to get bossy; "You're supposed to be eating dinner, what are you doing here?"

"I came to make myself a brew," Rachel replied, heading towards the chest were she kept an assortment of brews.

"What kind of brew?" Quincy blocked her path; "Not the one that puts off your moontime."

"So what if it is?" Rachel started to get riled up at this challenge in his stance.

"Mother Night, you've already taken it three times on this bloody mission Rachel, you can't take it again."

"I will if I have to, if that's the price for finding the Primora."

"And if you do that and the Primora isn't found, what will you do the next month? You know that with each successive use the potion's potency will decrease and the after-effects get worse," and Rachel snarled at him, but he drew the line and held his ground; "So what will you do when your moontime finally hits and you're waylaid for a week or longer? What if the Primora is found during that time? What use will you be then, Lady?"

Rachel wanted to snap at him, but couldn't. With that last word Quincy had turned the conversation from one of friendship to one of Protocol. So she reeled in her temper and addressed him in rigid court civility:

"I thank you for your concerns, Lord Tophet, and will take them into consideration," then she waited a beat, to let the mood of the conversation shift again before adding softly; "You know why I must."

"I know," Quincy said gently, placing a hand on Rachel's arm; "But I don't want you in that much pain, it hurts to see."

"I understand Quincy and I will think about it," Rachel gave his fingers a squeeze and he nodded in acquiesce, signaling an end to the conversation for the time being.

"What kind of brew did you come here to make?"

"A soothing brew for my stomach," Rachel answered truthfully and winced as Quincy went into fussing mode.

"Another one today? Have you been able to eat anything at all?

"You were there when I had breakfast, and yes I had midday. I had a small dinner just before I came here. I'm going to have that brew and then rest in my room for a bit before I meet the Captain," Rachel pacified him, recognizing this was one of those nights when she needed to give in to her protective male.

"I'll have a journeyman bring you a snack for before bed once we're in the clear."

"_Quincy_," Rachel put all her exasperation into his name, but it did no good.

"You've been losing weight, even the other men have noticed," which wasn't good as they might start fussing over her too; "I can always ask Lord Halsey to bring you something to eat."

Sweet Darkness, he wasn't fighting fair today.

"Fine, send your snack, I'll eat it," Rachel grumbled and shooed Quincy out of the room.

He gave her a tight lipped smile and a formal bow that would've left others wondering had they'd seen it. Then he was gone.

In the quiet solitude, Rachel started to make her brew. Then she stopped, replaying their conversation over again as the lingering psychic scents swirled around her. There was a scent of desperation and guilt in the air left by Quincy which didn't fit.

On a hunch, Rachel walked over to the containment trunk and opened it. A quick glance was all she needed to slam the lid shut, swearing under her breath. She made sure the containment spells were undisturbed and then she put a twisted lock of Gray and Sapphire on the trunk. Then she followed after the Purple Dusk Warlord.

_Quincy, what are you up to?_

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Tom had decided to join the journeyman- and apprentice-sailors for the evening meal. It gave him the chance to get to know the men and women who crewed with him better and allowed him to pick up on any dissention and fix it before it became a problem. It also let him give the crew a sense that despite the problems they faced, he knew what he was doing. As his normal liaison with the journeymen and apprentices, Hugh joined him to help put the crew at ease.

Everything was going well until Lord Tophet walked in. Attuned to the comings and goings of the personnel from the dining hall, Tom wasn't quite certain what had him honing in on Quincy the moment he entered. Trusting his instincts, Tom focused in on the Brytol Warlord as the Warlord Prince in him screamed danger.

There was nothing immediately hostile about the Purple Dusk Jeweled man; in fact he seemed mostly nervous. But there was something wrong, something off about the psychic scents Tom was getting from Quincy. Then Danny and Halsey entered the dining hall. The dog took one look at the Warlord, who was walking towards the kitchens, and started growling, his ears flat against his head.

Tom rose to the killing edge as he surged from his seat and moved to intercept Quincy in the center of the room. Hugh moved to back him up while Halsey and Danny blocked off Quincy's main route of escape. Two other Warlords and Miller helmed Quincy in from the sides while the rest of the males moved to guard the women and get them out of the hall. Quincy took it all in, trembling, as the room chilled with rage.

"Lord Tophet," Tom barked, issuing the challenge and demanding an answer.

"Stay away from me!" Quincy cried, calling in something to his hand.

*His smells are wrong,* Halsey growled, a bit of confusion coming across the thread.

Tom almost paused, to give the man a chance to explain, but then he saw what Quincy held in his hand. One of Rachel's plague samples. If released so close to the kitchens it would contaminate the food and endanger the whole crew. Tom called in his war blade, about to blast the enemy with his Jewels and follow that with a killing blow. Then Gray shields snapped into place around the enemy Warlord.

Tom snarled at that and then all the men snarled as Rachel forced her way into the room. Danny tried to block her, but Rachel shoved him out of the way with a Sapphire shield and cowed Halsey with a look. Tom would've moved to block her, but Quincy was in the way.

"Get out," he snarled at her.

"No," she snapped back and then focused her attention on Quincy; "What are you doing? Give that to me."

Breathing heavily, Tophet fell to his knees, pleadingly, before Rachel.

"They have them," Quincy sobbed, his entire body shaking.

"Who?" Rachel demanded.

Tom signaled the men as he came up with a plan to get Rachel out of the way, take out her shields, and deal with Tophet. A sharp glance from Rachel had him stepping back, for the moment, and being more discrete.

"Ruskans, they have Kelly and Ava. They're, they're holding them hostage on the _Vyerni_. They want you."

The room grew even more frigid at those words. Tom stalked closer to Quincy as Danny and Halsey moved to protect Rachel, who shoved them all back with a Gray shield.

"They wanted me to trade you for them. The Black Widow for my family, but I can't. I won't," now Quincy was begging, begging for something unspoken that Tom didn't understand.

But Rachel understood and grew rigid because of it. There was a tense moment as Rachel came to some decision. Then in two steps she crossed through her own shield and stood above Quincy.

"Do you serve Lord Tophet?" she asked invoking Protocol.

"I serve," Quincy responded, stilling, though tears streaked down his face.

"Then give me the carrier," she held out a hand.

Quincy handed over the plague and bowed his head as Rachel vanished it, but didn't remove her shields. Tom stood on the killing edge, trying to understand what was going on. Then Quincy murmured:

"Your will is my life."

A jolt went through Tom at those words. The Warlord probably hadn't meant for anyone but Rachel to hear. But those males who circled her shields heard and knew what those words meant.

Those were words of service, offered only to a Queen. Words that bound an honorable male, that promised he would never betray her. To offer such a pledge to anyone but a Queen went against everything the Blood stood for in this realm. Looking at Rachel's face though, Tom saw the words were not a smear on Protocol. He didn't understand how, but he was going to find out.

He stepped away from the killing edge and vanished his war blade. A new, hot anger began to replace the cold fury of the killing edge as he regarded Rachel. She looked back at him frigidly, wrapped tight in her shields until he snapped at the rest of the men to stand down. Then she dropped her shields and he grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the door.

"Miller, Green, escort Tophet to his room and keep him there," he ordered as people moved out of his way.

As he escorted Rachel to the formal court room, he heard Halsey say:

*Rachel _is_ a Queen!*

And he growled. He would be having a word with Danny and Halsey after he dealt with the defiant witch in his grasp.

The moment he pushed Rachel into the room before him, he put the table between them. He had a feeling he was going to need the deterrent to stop himself from throttling her in the conversation to come. Hell's Fire, he needed the deterrent already.

Hugh followed in after them, taking up a position at the door, a sign that Rachel would not be leaving the room until the males decided to let her go. A few seconds later Mike slipped inside, his face a blank mask of courtesy, but underneath the same anger Tom felt burned, so he knew; Hugh had probably told him. And even Hugh simmered with the understanding that Rachel was a Queen, even if they didn't understand how, yet.

"I think Lady," Tom fought the urge to snarl at her, "that it is time you told us the whole truth, not just the bits and pieces you feel are relevant."

"I am a Queen and a natural Black Widow," Rachel confirmed that she was one of the rarest combinations of witches and warned the men to keep silent with her eyes; "It is because I am both that I saw the cure when my sisters saw only death. Lady Carmilla of Brytol refused to listen to me because I am a Black Widow. Her actions cost me precious time in finding the Primora. The Blood could not afford for me to waste any more time, time that would've been lost if I'd had to convince Queen Debra and every male in her Court to allow me on this ship as a Queen. I knew I had to be a part of this mission, so I found a way to hide my caste as a Queen and played out my ruse."

"And your First Circle just allowed this?" Mike growled.

"My Court was broken before I made the decision to come to Amerik," Rachel retorted hotly; "They had no say when I made my decision to hide my caste. Quincy was the only one who knew, he argued with me for days about it, but in the end he yielded."

A court could break from many reasons, but Rachel didn't seem keen to share why hers did. Tom needed to know, but not right then.

"Can you remove what's hiding your caste?" he asked; his voice calmer than he felt.

"I can, but not right now," Rachel replied, almost guiltily; "The web was difficult enough to create the first time, I need to keep it intact until I can make another and can finish copying down the spell. I will need time to do it all properly."

"It's too dangerous for you to remove it with the Ruskans here anyway," Hugh spoke, his quiet anger still simmering unlike Tom and Mike who were trying hard not to burst and yell.

"Then I will do it as soon as we are away," Rachel bowed to the males' request, understanding their need and placing her confidence in their skills to get her away; "I'm afraid your plans for dealing with the Ruskans will have to change, Princes. If Quincy is right and Prince Ruskov has his wife and daughter, then you need to rescue them."

"And why is that?" Tom growled, resisting the desire to dump her in her room and lock her in.

Everything in the dynamic of their relationship had changed now that he knew she was a Queen. He was duty-bound to listen to her, drawn to obey her, and consumed with the need to protect her. Ruskov's challenge to fight meant nothing now when a Queen's life was in danger. He and the crew would get her out of here, no matter the cost, and that was all that mattered. A Queen's safety came first, before any man's family.

"Quincy's daughter, Ava, is an adolescent Queen."

Hell's Fire, Mother Night, and may the Darkness be merciful. They'd gone from having no Queens to directly worry about, to having two out at sea and in danger in only a matter of minutes. And one of them was in the hands of the Ruskans. As if Tom's day couldn't get any _better_.

"I understand Lady," Tom replied as he started to rework his plan, his anger would have to wait; "If you are still up for it there are a few things I need you to make."


	11. Debts Owed Pt 3

Disclaimer: If I owned TNT's _The Last Ship_ do you really think we'd have to wait a whole year for the next season? And there would definitely be more books about the Blood out there if I wrote Anne Bishop's _The Black Jewels_ Trilogy.

**A/N**: Thank you for all the reviews, they brighten my day and convince me that I can write good stories after all. As always any criticism is appreciated and to all a good night. ; )

Chapter Eleven

"Lord Green, Lord Halsey," Tom barked as he approached them; "Report to Lady Scott's workroom and make sure she doesn't overwork herself."

*Yes Prince Chandler,* the Sceltie answered and trotted away.

"Sir," Danny started, no doubt to explain the dog's comment in the mess.

"We'll discuss everything else later. A young Queen's life is in danger."

"Yessir," Danny replied, face set and sharp mind focused with that call to battle.

"Your Queen," Tom enunciated the title as he stared at the chained up Brytol Warlord, "tells me you're a loyal man to your dying breath. So what in the name of Witch were you thinking?"

"You understand now, why I can't betray her," Quincy shook with grief; "But I can't just let the Ruskans have my family. There is nothing I can do to save them and I am a liability to Rachel because of this. I wasn't going to break the seal; I just wanted to challenge one of you enough to kill me."

"I understand that," Tom snapped and he did.

If forced to choose between betraying the Queen he served and saving a young Queen, especially if that Queen was his daughter, Tom would rather die than break his honor making such a choice. That had been what Quincy was trying to do.

"How could you let your Queen risk her life like this?" he clarified his earlier question.

"I told you, I can't betray her and Rachel swore me to secrecy about the truth of her caste before she hide it. Besides, how was I to talk her out of this? Even with twelve us when Rachel set her mind on something and felt certain she was right, there was no getting through to her. You've argued with her enough to have caught on, she's practically as stubborn as a Warlord Prince when she wants to be."

"All right you've made your point," Tom groused, he wanted to stay mad at the Warlord, vent a little of his anger out on the man, but Quincy was too grief-stricken and honest at the moment for Tom to do that; "Tell me, what was Ruskov's plan for you to get the Lady off the _Nathan James_ and to him?"

"They wanted me to get Rachel and her work off the ship around sunset, when many of the crew would be eating," Quincy's quaking calmed as he focused on reciting the details that had choked him for so long; "I was to take her on one of your skiffs to Gitmo and find another boat there that could take me to the western lighthouse on the bay's entrance. The meeting was set for an hour after sunset. The trade would take place there, Rachel for my family. Of course I knew the Ruskans would never have held up their end of the bargain, even if I had been willing to go through with their plan. Ruskov doesn't appear to know that Rachel is a Queen. He only referred to her as the Black Widow and I suspect he isn't aware she wears the Gray either, she's always been cautious about revealing that."

"How has Ruskov communicated all this to you? Proven that he has your family?"

"Ruskov contacted me personally when the Ruskans first showed up and he allowed me a moment to hear from my wife. When we met them at the tavern, one of his left-tenants relayed the instructions for the trade. I believe he was the man who was wearing Ava's Birthright Purple Dusk Jewel."

At that memory, Quincy let out a flash of anger and Tom felt a similar hate. Jewels were not shared among the Blood, unless passed down from one generation to the next. To wear another's Jewels was taboo; to wear Jewels taken by force was an insult to all Blood. That Ruskov had allowed one of his men to do so, with the Jewel of a young Queen at that, told Tom all he needed to know any more about the other Warlord Prince.

"Do you know how the Ruskans managed to capture your family?"

"Honestly, I don't know for certain, Ruskov didn't want to share and Kelly didn't have enough time to tell me. All I know is that when Rachel and I left Brytol they were on their way to the mountains with my uncle. Rachel had said the mountains would be the best place to go, to hold off the first infection of the plague, hopefully long enough that a cure could be found. My family was a part of a select group being sent high into the mountains. Of course, those mountains border Ruska Territory. The Ruskans must have gotten them somewhere along the way. How they found out about Rachel's mission and that I was her escort, I don't know, but my wife and daughter certainly didn't tell them, they didn't know."

Tom gave a nod of acknowledgement, digested this new information, and let his anger with the Ruskans smolder, to be released when the time was right.

"Are you going to save my family?" Quincy asked when Tom started to leave.

"I am," Tom replied and the Brytol Warlord finally broke down and cried.

Tom left him to his tears.

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They met again in the room where the truth had come out. As it was a court office it was only fitting. Again their party consisted of Tom, Mike, Hugh, and Rachel. As it was a battle situation, Tom was in charge. But since Rachel was the Queen in residence, he wouldn't act without her approval. So even though he had the plan in place and he was certain it would work with the minimalist amount of loss possible, he laid it out for her in detail. Well aware that if she objected, he would have to change his plan all over again.

The mood in the room was certainly different than it had been earlier. There was still anger in the room, but it was bottled up and directed solely at the Ruskans – it was a deadly anger, unlike the emotional heat Rachel's deception had produced. There was understanding all around – they knew their roles by the Old Ways, their rights under Protocol, and they were all on the same page about their objectives for once. Most importantly of all, Tom finally had a good measure of the woman Rachel was and many of her past actions now made sense in light of her revelation.

"Once the distractions begin, we'll have to move fast to get the _Nathan James_ out of the channel. It shouldn't take too long for Lord Halsey to locate the Tophets, getting them off the will be tricky in all the fighting, but Prince Jeter will see to it that they make it off the _Vyerni_. The nearest skiff will bring them to the rendezvous point."

"You expect Ruskov to launch a tangled bomb at one of your distractions, maybe more, don't you?" Rachel asked after a moment's consideration.

"It would be the most logical course of action."

"You're aware there is a way to disable tangled bombs safely and leave them inert?"

"I know Lady, but the chances of any of the boarding parties getting close enough to disarm the bombs are negligibly low."

"With your plan, yes," Rachel conceded his point; "If you're willing to make a few minor adjustments, I have an idea for how you could get someone close enough to take the tangled bombs off the table and help get Kelly and Ava out undetected."

"I'm listening."

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Just as the Ruskans had sought to make use of the conflicting lights of sunset, so too did the crew of the _Nathan James_ use the fading daylight to their advantage. A team was sent to Gitmo on one of the dark Winds as traveling by water was most certainly unsafe. The team returned on the Winds, bringing with them small motorboats that would be paramount to Tom's plan.

Hugh, with Miller's help, took charge of one of the new boats. They set about anchoring it firmly just off the _Nathan James_'s port bow. When they were done, Hugh called in a clay ball inlaid with clear Jewels, Jewels that served very little use among the Blood as they couldn't hold power for long.

"So that's an Alum Foil," Miller commented; "How exactly will it fool the Ruskans into thinking we're still here?"

"Once the sun goes down, the _Nathan James_ is going to go dark," Hugh explained to the younger Warlord; "Without any lights, the only way the Ruskans will know where we are is by sensing our Jewels. This little guy has been spelled to mimic all the Jewel strengths on the _Nathan James_. A little power stored by each rank in each of the clear Jewels is enough real power to convince any probing minds there are actual Blood onboard. By the time the spell wears off and the power fades, we'll be long gone from Tanamo Island."

"When we leave the island, we're leaving it for good aren't we? I mean we're leaving the landen to fend for themselves right?"

"That was the price Lady Scott set for their betrayal of the Tanamoan Blood," Hugh replied after gathering his thoughts; "However Tanamo Island isn't her Territory to rule. A tribunal will have to be called on the mainland to decide to uphold it, but I imagine the Lady's justice will prevail."

"So Lady Scott really is a Queen."

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Kara hoped she didn't look as nervous as she felt. As a Healer she'd been trained to keep calm in many explosive situations. None of those lessons had dealt with walking into the heart of a killing field though.

Healers weren't needed on a killing field, only after and then only rarely. For when males stepped onto a killing field, especially Warlord Princes, they came away either the victor or dead. Though in some cases the men died of their wounds, but kept on fighting, their Jewel strength strong enough to allow them to transition into the demon-dead.

Kara had meant a demon-dead Prince once. He'd died young and so hadn't been quite ready to go to the Darkness. His Jewels had sustained his flesh, kept it from decay, and he'd replenished his power by drinking the blood of others – freely given and freely received, as the ways of Protocol dictated. Eventually his Jewels had been drained and he'd become nothing more than a whisper in the Darkness, but not before he'd made his peace with life.

The Prince had been a nice enough man. However his fate was not what Kara wanted hers to be. Yet she couldn't help but imagine that that was a distinct possibility for her with this mission she was being asked to take.

"If you're uncomfortable doing this, I will understand if you say no," Lady Scott said kindly and Kara could see she spoke the truth; "Prince Chandler tells me there are a few other dark Jeweled witches on the _Nathan James_."

"But none of them wear the Green and your illusion will work better if you don't have to build up too many scents or mask a lot of differences," Kara paraphrased Rachel's earlier explanation from when she'd first asked for help.

"Yes, it would, but it isn't necessary."

And yet it was. While there were two other Sapphire Jeweled men on board, besides the Captain, none of them could play Kara's part because they were male. Altering one's psychic scent to read as the opposite gender was tricky spell work for even the most experience member of the Hourglass Coven and required more time than Rachel had. As Kara looked enough like the Brytol Queen to begin with and her Green Jewel was only a rank below the Sapphire, a much simpler illusion could make her pass for Rachel.

Knowing why she was chosen and how important her part was, Kara had no qualms about volunteering. She just wasn't sure she could do her part without making a mistake and jeopardizing the entire mission, and she told Rachel as much.

"You'll have Lords Green and Halsey there to back you up," Rachel offered what support she could; "If it helps, think of each moment as part of a difficult surgery; I think of something similar when I argue with fussy, stubborn males who should know better."

At the image that popped into her head – of snarky males lying nude on her operation table, trying to argue with her – Kara laughed. Then she clamped a hand over her mouth to contain more of her giggles when Rachel winked at her.

"Well there we go, you're all done," Rachel said a few minutes later; "Would you care to take a look Lady Foster?"

With a game smile, Kara turned around and there in the mirror, standing side-by-side, were two Rachel Scotts.

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Top side, Mike over saw the final preparations for the distractions and the guarantee the Ruskans wouldn't follow them.

"Be careful with that Apprentice," he barked when one young, White Jeweled male nearly dropped the case he was carrying.

"Sorry sir," the youth responded before he was pulled along in the hustle to get everything done.

"Are the lights ready to go out?" Mike asked the deck chief when the man came over.

"Aye sir, as soon as the Captain gives the order."

"Good. Finish up everybody; then get to your stations. The ship goes dark in ten."

While down below deck, in the infirmary, lying on his bed, Prince Tex contemplated the newest whisper he'd heard.

"A Queen to boot, well if this isn't your lucky day old son," he mused with a sigh as he settled down to doze again until he regained his strength, hands behind his head.

Well that didn't change his plans to woo her at all, provided she and the Captain let him stay onboard. But that was a worry for another day. Today he'd just settle for knowing what was going on that had everybody scurrying every which way. Maybe he'd find out, when sleep wasn't tucking him away into sweet nothingness.


End file.
